


x^t\. 













LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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Silver Sheaves 



GATHERED THROUGH 



IN TWO PARTS. 



PART FIRST: 
Civil and Military Life of the Author. 

PART SECOND: 
MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION OF PROSE AND POETRV. 



/^/V •• BY 



WILLIAM H. SALLADA. 



SECOND EDITION . ::*><Ko^'"^ 



DES MOINES r 



PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. 

1879. 



77 






U? 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year eighteen hundred 
and seventy-nine, 

By "WILLIAM H. SALLADA, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington, D. C. 



MILLS & COMPANY, 

PEINTEBS AND STEREOTyPERS, 

DEB MOINES, ICWA. 



PEEFATOR Y 



About nine years ago the author published a short 
history of his military career, which met with so much 
favor that the edition was soon exhausted, and after 
repeated solicitations from friends consented to re- 
write and enlarge the work. And now, in sending this 
volume out into the world, he does not expect to add 
much to the History of the "War, either in learned 
disquisitions as to its causes, or brilliant narratives as 
to its progress; he only offers to the public the simple 
story of a Soldier-boy, who went forth in the glorious 
confidence of youth to dwell on the tented field and 
lift his willing hand in his flag's defense, only to meet 
a Hite of which he does not complain, and yet a fate 
w^hich, next to death itself, is the most grievous that 
may befall a man — the loss of his eye-sight. 

The reader will find in Part First a faithful, thrilling 
narrative of thirty-three years of struggles and tri- 
umphs of an active life, under disadvantages of the 
most distressing character. A simple story, told as 
he would tell it to his friends around the fireside upon 
a winter night. 

Part Second contains a fine collection of original 
and selected Poems and Essays. 

Hoping to please and benefit the reader, we send 
Silver Sheaves adrift in its native guise. 
Des Moines, Iowa, August, ly79. " 



1 



CONTENTS -PART L 



INTEODUCTION. 

EARLY HISTORY OF THE AUTHOR. 

Parentage— Birthplace, etc 19 

CHAPTER I. 

INCIDENTS OP TOWN LIFE. 

Civil War — The News Boy and his Employer — Communings 
with Nature — Sabbath Excursions — Melon Patch and Re- 
venge — Poisoned Blackberries — Anxiety to Enlist — ^Death 
of Mr. Walker 25 

CHAPTEE II. 

AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 

Intemperance and Gaming — My Unrest at Home — ^My Trip 
East — Tobacco and Reform — Trip to Ohio — Resolve to 
Enlist 37 

CHAPTER III. . 

LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 

Talk with Recruiting OflBcer — Incidents of Enlistment — ^My 
Mother's Bible — At Home — Strange Presentiments — Final 
Departure — The Gallant Thirteen — From Pittsburgh to 
Camp Copeland — Roundheads and French Furloughs — 
Incidents in Camp — Last Ordeal 5J 



10 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTEK IV. 

ARMY INCIDENTS. 

En Route to Washington — Going to Regiment— Old Rebel 
Camp — Round of Duties — Recreation in Camp — Removal 
and Promotion — March to Chancellorsville — Battle of the 
Wilderness — In the Rebel Lines — Honey Adventure — 
Charged by Rebel Cavalry 71 

CHAPTER Y. 

THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 

Results of Six Days Fighting — Charge at Spotsylvania — 
Against the Weldon Railroad — Temporary Rest — Inci- 
dents, Amusing and Otherwise — Description of the Coun- 
try — Reconnoisance- -Springing of the Mine — Brandy- 
melon — Both Eyes Torn Out— Captured, Robbed and Re- 
captured 91 

CHAPTER YI. 

SUFFERING AND SORROW. 

On the Stretcher— Taken to Carver Hospital— Surgical Atten- 
tion — Progress of my Case — Miss Whetten — The Death 
of my Mother. 114 

CHAPTER YII. 

LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 

Incidents in Hospital— Home Furlough — My Sister — Hospital 
Scenes — Abraham Lincoln — The Museum— Secretary Stan- 
ton — Visiting Regiment — Insolence' of a Lieutenant— A 
Glance at the Capitol— View of the Navy Yard- Grand 
Review 128 



CONTENTS. 11 

CHAPTEE YIIl. 

IN PHILLADELPHIA. 

My Contest with Red Tape — ^The Hat cord — Trick mth Cards 
— My Manufacture — Discharge and Commission — The 
Brave Old Fifty-seventh 146 

CHAPTER IX. 

CIVIL LIFE. 

At Home — Contest with a Swindler — Engaged in Book Busi- 
ness — Stung by a Locust — Nearly a Tragedy — Memorable 
Introduction — Swimming the Alleghany — Home and 
Home Work — Religious Experience 161 

CHAPTER X. 

MOMENTOUS TRANSACTIONS. 

Canvassing Again — A Cruel Suspicion — A Dangerous Slide — 
Mechanical Skill — Trip to Wisconsin — Mercantile Pur- 
suits — Marriage 176 

CHAPTER XI. 

LIFE IN THE WEST. 

Arrive in Des Moines — Society in Monroe — Engaged in Mer- 
chandising — Building a House — Going East — Embark in 
the Music Business — Elected Alderman — Sad Tidings. . . . 188 



INDEX-PAET II. 



Page 

Alice Gary's Sweetest Poem, . _ - . 222 

Angels Met Him at the Gate, - - - - 264 

A Prayer, - 262 

A Teacher's Dream, - ... - 351 

A Touch of Nature, 267 

A Western Sketch, - - . . . 252 

Bend Beneath the Blast, ----- 266 

Breezes of the Summer Eve, - - - - 289 

Centennial Hymn, ------ 244 

Centennial Ode, - - - . . 265 

Christmas Coming, - . - - . 326 

Clouds and Sunshine, ----- 335 

Coal Hill Opposite Greenville, Pa., - - - 331 

Episode, 276 

Family Gathering, _ - . - - 349 

Father, is this the Way, . - - - 322 

Free, .---.-» 333 

For You, 334 

God, 228 

God Bless the Union Soldier, - - - - 270 

Home, 324 



14 INDEX. 

Page 

I 'U Know Thee There, ----- 219 

In Memoiy of Father and Mother, - - . 347 

Jesus Only, ------ 343 

Just Eleven, - 340 

Life's Lot, 325 

Light for One Step More, . - . . 247 

Lines (The Sun behind Judea's Hills), - - . 333 

Lines on the Mystic Tie, - - - - 279 

Lines on the Old School-house, - - - - 286 

Lines on the Departing Year, - - - - 288 

Lines (On the Cover of an old Bible), - . - 258 

Lines on a Skeleton, ----- 335 

lines, ..--... 341 

Morning Supplication, ----- 285 

My Indian Love, .---.. 242 

My Mission, ------ 301 

MyPsahn, 328 

Nativity, 208 

No More Death, 311 

No Rose without a Thorn, - - . - 327 

Ode on the Sea of Gallilee, - - - - 281 

On the Death of Nettie, - - . - 245 

On the Death of my Bunk-mate, G. A. Blank, - - 284 

On Picket, .306 

One by One, 213 

Our Heroic Themes, 291 

Paul Revere's Ride, ----- 233 

Sheaves, ..--.- 358 

Soliloquy of the Author, ----- 205 

Stanzas on Memory, ----- 212 

Stanzas (Building on the Sand), . - - - 305 

Sweet Twilight Hour, 332 



INDEX. 15 

Page 

The Bethel Dream, 338 

The Bivouac of the Dead, .... 273 

The Blacksmith's Story, ----- 215 

The Common Soldier, 302 

The Dying Soldier, 309 

The Future of America, . - . _ 224 

The Mother's Motto, 257 

The Old Musket, - - - - - 353 

The Parson Going to Mill, 344 

The Shore of Memory, ----- 356 

The Soldier's Letter, 304 

Tlie Wine Cup Did it All, - - . . 355 

The World of Bliss, 249 

There Remaineth therefore Rest. - - - 231 

There's Rest By and By, - - - - - 283 

Thou art God Alone, ----- 214 

Tobacco, ------- 318 

ToL. M. W.. 280 

Typhlotes, - 240 

Vastness and Grandeur of the Solar System, - - 263 

Welcome to the Nations, ----- 321 

What is Trouble, 237 



'PSf(¥ m^^l^ 



Civil and Militakt Life 



CiYiL AisTD Military Life 



WILLIAM HENRY SALLADA. 



INTRODUCTION. 

BY J. M. DIXON. 

Men generally take an interest in the early history 
of those who like themselves have encountered the 
trials and misfortunes of life. We will introduce this 
little volume to the reader by giving a short sketch 
of the parentage and early history of the author. His 
father, Daniel Sallada, was born in Dauphin county, 
Pennsylvania, in 1816. At an early age his father 
<lied and his lot was cast among strangers. We need 
not trace the wanderings of his early life; it needs 
no comment, for as an orphan without home he was 
subject to hardship and misfortune. At the age of 
twenty-two he apprenticed himself to a shoemaker. 
After this he removed to Lycoming county where he 
formed the acquaintance of Maria Stover, of Lehigh 
county, Pa., and in July, 1845, they were married. 
On the 12th of July, 1846, their oldest son, William 
Henry Sallada, was born, who, as the following pages 



20 SILVER SHEAVES. 

will show, is the author of this work. His father, by 
his industry, energy and hard labor, provided a home 
for his family in a beautiful valley lying at the foot 
of Sugar Yalley Mountain, near the banks of the Sus- 
quehanna. His mother was a woman of highly con- 
sistent christian character, passionately devoted to her 
family. His parents soon discovered that his intellect 
was more than an ordinary one, and, anxious for the 
development of his intellectual powers, they at an 
early age engaged a boy to take him to school, where, 
by his facetious nature and generous disposition he 
soon won the love of both teacher and schoolmates. 
His active mind soon drank deep of knowledge, and 
it was with pride his parents noticed his early inclina- 
tion for advancement in his studies. His natural abili- 
ties afforded him superior advantage. His childhood 
was marked by childish pranks: fishing and wandering 
on the mountains were among his favorite amuse- 
ments. An amusing little incident occurred in his 
early childhood which will show that he was not of an 
excitable nature, but rather cool and collected: At one 
time his father's house caught iire; he was fast asleep 
in his bed when the noise awakened him ; he arose and 
was proceeding down the stairway when his father, 
unconscious of his presence and blinded by smoke 
dashed a pail of water in his face, upon which he 
coolly retraced his steps. After the fire was extin- 
guished, and excitement abated, Willie was found fast 
asleep covered up in his bed. 

His first years were happy childhood years, gam- 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

boling with Iwls sister and brother, the dark future as 
yet having never crossed his pathway. Oh, happy 
childhood days, too soon they pass from ns, bring- 
ing in their stead the stern realities of life. To some 
joy and contentment, but to many afflictions and dis- 
tress; but in all times we have the assurance that we 
have a friend who will aid and comfort us in sorrow and 
trouble — He will revive our drooping spirits, and will 
animate us with love, peace and happiness. Though at 
times our path seems dark and gloomy and thorns strew 
our way, yet we have the promise of a brighter day. 

The morning of his life was as cloudless as a 
summer morning; his sun arose bright and clear. 
In most children we see the future man, so in Willie's 
active enero^etic mind was his future traced. Like 
most children he had a strong will, apt to love his own 
ways, and not easily pursuaded to do any thing con- 
trary to his will. He never allowed himself to be over- 
come by petty troubles and was not easily daunted in 
his childish pursuits. Thus, how heedless we run on 
in disobedience and folly which we often regret in after 
years. The sun of our existence has. just arisen, all is 
light and love, we little dream of what may befall ns, 
and it is well it is so, else our childhood might be over- 
shadowed, and the years that now are without care 
darkened with the thoughts of what is to come. The 
short hours of our infancy are soon passed, a mother's 
fond caress and smile, a father's care, are gone like a 
shadow that fleeth, and we are left to battle with life 
alone. 



22 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Has the time come to any of us that we have been 
sorry for past acts, when we would gladly have recalled 
words that had been spoken, could we have strewn 
some one's pathway with flowers instead of thorns? 
Oh how often we might have performed a kind act, or 
done a good deed, but the opportunity is past; how 
often in our childhood has our waywardness grieved 
a loving parent, or our filial love cheered her anxious 
heart. But, the wing of time is swiftly bearing us 
onward, our brightest hours have no abiding; but this 
life has its clouds and sunshine, its joys and its sor- 
rows, its fortunes and misfortunes, its prosperity and 
adversity — all these we meet face to face in the battle 
of life. 

My happy childhood art thou past. 

So free from sin and pain; 
Thou was too happy far, to last 

Or to return again. 

One fading moment's mirth 
And boyhood's day is gone. 

In 1852, his father hearing of the advantages ot 
western settlers, and thinking to better hi^ lot, re- 
moved to Mercer county, two miles northwest of Green- 
ville, Pa. 

This beautiful and enterprising town, of between 
three and four thousand inhabitants, is situated in the 
Shenango Yalley. To the east and south, as far into 
the exterior as the eye can reach are richly cultivated 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

farms, adorned with neat and comely buildings. The 
stately pine, and ragged oak with its magnificent 
branches nodding to the passing breeze, add to the 
beauty of the surrounding scenery, while in the north- 
ern suberbs is the Shenango river, which quietly steals 
its way southward through the western portion of the 
town. To the west rises a majestic hill that overlooks 
the town, and from this elevation you have a com- 
manding view of the immediate town, with its grand 
structures and templed palaces; your ear is attracted 
by the busy hum of the town, and you see the heavily 
loaded boats slowly winding their way to their destined 
harbors, while on either side the swift locomotive, 
with its heavily freighted train, monopolizes the active 
routine of business. 

In the vicinity of this place Willie's boyhood was 
spent in assisting his father on the farm and attending 
district school, where he received a limited education. 
If he had had the opj)ortunity, and gone through a 
regular course of studies, his talented mind might have 
been largely developed. But circumstances were such 
that his course was ordered otherwise. At this time 
we may call him a mischievous boy; like most boys of 
his age, playing tricks and passing jokes seemed to 
afford him much amusement. It may not be out of 
place to state that at this early period of his boyhood 
he displayed a wonderful taste for war. He would 
organize little companies and spend hours in training 
them to his mode of dicipline — with his paper cap 
and wooden sword, and his little forces armed with 



24r SILVER SHEAVES. 

wooden guns, would march with all the dignity and 
pomposity of a regular organized militia, never dream- 
ing that this bright fancy in after years would waken 
into stern realities. 

He showed great ingenuity, and nearly every piece 
of machinery which he saw, after a close examination, 
would imitate it with such perfection that it awakened 
the curiosity of those who saw him. His mind was 
uncommonly active; his busy feet in constant motion. 
He was always cheerful and hai:)py. A busy life must 
be a cheerful one. A merry and cheerful countenance 
was one of the things which Jeremy Taylor said his 
enemies could not take away from him. It may at 
times seem difficult for the sweetest tempered to keep 
a cheerful countenance. "When we are sick, what 
causes more uuhaj)piness than peevishness? The loved 
ones who have the care of us are grieved at such 
unkindness. If we are unfortunate, why distress oui 
friends by a recital of our misfortunes? Why not 
trust God, and be not afraid? Birds sing in a storm. 
Then, why not we, as God's children, even when we 
can see no ray of his love? Though He sometimes 
seems a hard and austre master, He is a kind and 
loving father, and friend; He doeth all things for the 
best, and is ever ready to cheer and comfort us in 
every affliction. 



OHAPTEE I. 



INCIDENTS OF TOWN LIFE. 

CivHi War— The News Boy and his Employer — Commun- 
ings WITH Nature — Sabbath Excursions — Melon Patch 
ANB Revenge— Poisoned Blackberries — Anxiety to En- 
list — Death of Mr. Walker. 

The introduction to this work, as the reader is 
aware, embraces all that portion of my life, beginning 
at my birth, and terminating in my fifteenth year. 
The period to which I have now come— that is, the 
spring of 1861 — signalizes a memorable crisis in the 
affairs of our country. The secession of several of the 
States followed by overt acts of hostilit}- on the part 
of the Southern Confederacy, inaugurated the most 
formidable war of our history as a nation. The fall 
of Sumpter thrilled all hearts. North and South. The 
loyal States were ablaze with excitement, and compa- 
nies and regiments were in process of organization 
everywhere. Each succeeding act of the great military 
drama, as the report of it flashed along the wires, and 
was transmitted to the local journals, was caught up 



26 SILVER SHEAVES. 

with tlie greatest possible eagerness, and read with the 
profoundest interest. The fife and ihe drum consti- 
tuted the music of the hour; and the earth itself 
resounded with the tread of armed men, advancino-, 
witli banners flying, to tlie battle-fields, on which the 
destiny of our government, for weal or woe, was to be 
decided. 

CIVIL WAR. 

At this exciting period, I was living in Greenville,, 
in the employment of TV. H. C. Walker, who was the 
proprietor of a book store, news depot, etc. At that 
time the little city of which I was a resident, had no 
railroad. Twelve miles away, at Jamestown, was the 
terminus of a road, which was destined in time to 
reach our place. Each evening, at seven o'clock, the 
stage from the railroad made its welcome appearance,, 
bringing with it packages of the Express and Courier^ 
daily papers of Buffalo, N. Y. The columns of these 
journals, filled as they were with stirring news from 
the seat of war, were the centers of popular interest 
and expectation. A rare harvest, indeed, was reaped 
in a pecuniary sense, by men who were engaged in 
the sale of daily papers. 

THE NEWS BOY AND HIS EMPLOYEK. 

In Greenville, there were two competing news 
depots, the rivalry between which on account of the 
peculiar character of the news, was very sharp and 
exciting. The one belonging to Mr. Walker was three 



INCIDENTS OF TOWN LIFE. 27 

blocks distant from the Express Office, while its com- 
petitor was quite near. It was my duty, as a news 
boy, to station myself each evening at a point near the 
office, and when the stage came in, and the precious 
package of papers was committed to my charge, I 
would run with it to the store, where Mr. Walker, 
standing at the door, was waiting to receive it. The 
papers were speedily folded, as my employer was an 
adept in this business : and then the contest in the dis- 
tribution began. We had a number of permanent 
patrons, whom we supplied each day; but the public 
anxiety to obtain the journals at the earliest moment 
was such that in most cases the news boy who found 
his way lirst to the purchaser was the one patronized. 
Despite tlie fact that our store was so remote from the 
express office, compared with that of our competitor, 
I managed to sell many more papers each day than 
were sold by the other house. I may be pardoned 
here for the statement that my activity and diligence, 
as well as my spirit of friendly accommodation, were 
highly commended by Mr. Walker, and by the many 
patrons whom it was my pleasure to supply with read- 
ing matter. I was frequently greeted with words of 
kindness and good will; and in this way I was stim- 
ulated and cheered in tlie performance of my duties. 

COMMUNINGS WITH NATUKE. 

While not otherwise engaged my business hours 
were spent in the store, waiting on customers. My em- 



38 SILVER SHEAVES. 

ployer was a young man of much respectability and 
promise; lie was a genuine lover of the beautiful in 
nature, and with this trait of character, it was my 
good fortune to be in full accord and sympathy. Often 
in the evening, when the work of the day was sus- 
pended, he and I would ramble away from the town to 
enjoy, in the silvery light of the moon, the grand scen- 
ery which spread out in panoramic beauty before us. 
It was here, while contemplating those familiar scenes 
which memory has enshrined, never to be driven from 
their sanctuary, we studied the open volume of nature 
whose revelations, if indeed there were no other volume, 
taught us to apprehend some of the attributes of the 
Almighty; or, in other words, led us in thought up- 
ward along the stairway of the universe, to the pavil- 
ion of Him who dwells in eternity. 

SABBATH EXCURSIONS. 

It must be confessed, however, that in spite of the 
sacred influences to which I have referred, many of my 
Sabbaths were spent in a very thoughtless manner, 
strolling over the country, without any definite object 
or aim, or propelling the light skiff, as it glided on the 
bosom of the river, regardless of the divine command, 
"Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy." On 
other Sabbaths, not so thoughtlessly abused, it was a 
pure and rich enjoyment in my experience to visit the 
old hearthstone at home, around which were gathered 
the other members of my father's family to welcome 
my arrival among them. These visits were refreshing 



I"NCIDENTS OF TOWN LIFE. 29 

events to me. Here I was the recipient of many kind- 
nesses from brothers and sisters ; and here too the be- 
nign and gracious influences wliich comes to the boy 
through the sacred channel of parental love and author- 
ity, was felt in all its fullness of affection. In connec- 
tion with these home visits, I have here a little epi- 
sode to record: 

MELON PATCH AND REVENGE. 

One of my brothers had cultivated, with much care, 
a melon patch, designing to give me a delicious enter- 
tainment when the proper season came. The melons 
had reached their maturity, presenting a luscious and 
inviting appearance to all beholders. Having been ad- 
vised of the repast that was intended forme, I repaired 
at the appointed time to my father's residence ftill of 
delightful expectation. What was my disgust and dis- 
appointment, when 1 learned that on the previous 
night some heartless freebooters had visited the patch 
and deprived all other persons of any benefit from it. 
In the bitterness of my heart I resolved to be avenged, 
and learning that the son of a neighboring farmer was 
guilty, in part at least, of the cowardly theft, I put my 
designs of revenge into execution. Along with several 
comrades I visited the patch of the farmer, but instead 
of despoiling it we feasted on a few melons, leaving the 
others to the owner. 

In recalling this rather shameful affair, I desire to 
state somewhat in extenuation, that the temptation to 
be revenged did not originate in my own mind; that 



30 SILVER SHEAVES. 

dubious honor belonged to one of my companions, but 
I displayed cowardice and weakness in yielding to such 
temptation, no matter who started it. 

Some days after this occurrence the old farmer, on 
whom I had retaliated in return for the act of his son 
came to Greenville. Through his son-in-law, who 
lived near him, and who chanced to see my compan- 
ions and myself strolling about rather suspiciously on 
the day in which my revenge was accomplished — for it 
was in broad daylight when the deed was done — the 
farmer regarded me as one of the marauders. Invit- 
ing me to step aside with him he spoke of the deed 
which had been perpetrated at his expense, and con- 
cluded by expressing his strong suspicion that I was 
one of the offenders. I confronted the charge with a 
look which was intended to be one of injured innocence, 
and stoutly denied all knowledge of the depredation. 
Finding that the evidence was insufficient to convict 
me, and attaching some importance no doubt to my 
straight denial, he departed, leaving me to my painful 
reflections. As he went his wa)'^ along the street, his 
venerable form burdened with the weight of years, and 
his white hair which was stirred by the passing breeze, 
excited in me, as I gazed, a feeling of respect and rev- 
erence, and this feeling was suddenly followed by the 
pangs of a sharp remorse for the cowardly part I had 
been playing. Incited by an honest resolution to re- 
pair the wrong I had done, as far as I was able to make 
reparation, I followed the old farmer, and, calling him 
aside, made a full retraction of the falsehoods I had 



INCIDENTS OF TOWN LIFE. 31 

littered in liis presence a little while before, and sin- 
cerel}' confessed my guilt, taking care, however, to con- 
ceal the names of my companions in the theft, standing 
thus alone in responsibility for the deed, of which 
others were guilty as well as myself. I begged his 
forgiveness with tears of penitent sorrow bedewing 
my cheeks. Fully imbued with the desire to make it 
all right, I proposed to pay for the damage he had 
sustained, and although I was allowed by my employer 
but a dollar a month, in excess of board and clothes, I 
paid the farmer three dollars for the mischief that had 
been done, and never asked my comrades to take from 
me any part of this financial burden. 

That bad act of mine, taken in connection with its 
bitter but salutary results, taught me a lesson which 
has never been forgotten. It taught me to respect the 
rights of other parties; and uiore than this, it taught 
me that the spirit of retaliation, even when gratified 
to its fullest extent, brings remorse instead of satisfac- 
tion. From that day to this, I have been careful to 
suppress all desire to appropriate to myself the prop- 
erty of others, believing that the happiness of every- 
day life depends on the honest observance of the golden 
rule: Do unto others as you would wish them to do 
unto you. 

POISONED BLACKBEEKIES. 

Nature had endowed me with a warm, lively and 
impulsive disposition. Imagination, as it usually is 
with the young, had full play; and my jokes and 



?.">, 



SILVER SHEAVES, 



sportive sallies contributed, if they had no other effect, 
to the amusement of my patron and friend. When 
from any cause we were kept within doors in the 
evening, the time was occupied in relating incidents 
to each other, and in interchanging thoughts on various 
topics which suggested themselves to our minds. In this 
way whatever intellect I possessed received strength. 
My sphere of information was enlarged, and my abil- 
ity to grapple with the great world, in the conflict of 
life, was maturing day by day. 

Here I must relate another incident, which created, 
for the time, quite a sensation in the little circle in 
which I moved. It was often the case that friends 
from the country would kindly bring to us presents 
of fruits, and other delicacies of the season, which were 
always gratefully accepted. On one occasion a young 
lady brought us some blackberries, which were held 
in reserve in a basket behind the counter until such 
time as an adjournment from business would give us 
leisure to feast our palates. During the day Mr. M., 
a well known merchant, whose place of business was 
not far away, came into the store, and stepping famil- 
iarly, though somewhat carelessly, in the vicinity of 
our rich deposit of fruit, searching, as he was, for some 
desired article, he overset a vessel of fly poison, the 
contents of which fell among the berries. The acci- 
dent was not observed by any one else ; and Mr. M. 
omitting to mention the disagreeable circumstance, 
left the store shortly afterward. In the evening, when 
the customers had all departed, Mr. Walker and 



INCIDENTS OF TOWN LIFE. 33 

m3'self sat down to the delectable entertainment. The 
berries were very inviting," and having a great fondness 
for such fruit, I went to work with more than ordinary 
greediness, excelling my patron in making rapid prog- 
ress in this feast of good things, when Mr. M. again 
entered the store. As soon as he saw what manner of 
business, or pleasure, was employing our time, he 
started back aghast, calling out at the same time to me: 

"Will, stop eating those berries! Stop! Do not eat 
them, I would not eat them!" 

Thinking that Mr. M. was trying to get off some 
practical joke, which was no uncommon thing in those 
times, I responded with great coolness: 

" JS'either would I." 

Having made this remark, in imitation of the cant 
phraseology in vogue, I calmly proceeded to devour 
more berries. The merchant was in sucli a state of 
excitement and terror, that moments elapsed before he 
was able to explain the situation. Taking me forcibly 
by the arm, and summoning all his powers of utter- 
ance, he at last made us compreliend the alarming- 
fact. We started np in dismay, and threw the poisoned 
berries into the street. Having eaten more of the 
fruit than my employer, I soon began to feel the 
effects of an active poison. I hastened off in the direc- 
tion of a drug store, but before I reached it, a deadly 
sickness seized me, and I was compelled to stop by the 
way. Here an antidote was brought to me, which 
allayed, to some extent, the violent symptoms, but all 
that night I suffered dreadfully, and many days passed 



34 SILVER SHEAVES. 

away before I regained my former vigorous health. 
Mr. Walker, having regaled himself more tempei'ately 
at the fly banquet, suffered much less than myself, and 
was soon well. 

ANXIETY TO EXLIST. 

As stated in a former part of this chapter, the great 
civil war was in progress. It was now raging in all 
its fury; and every part of the country was in a condi- 
tion of unrest and convulsion, as thougli an earthquake, 
like that of Lisbon, was producing universal desola- 
tion. It may be that the aptitude, as well as the long- 
ing for military life was natural with me. However 
this may be, the desire to join the ranks of the boys in 
blue, and do battle for the integrity of the Union, 
under the old Flag of Freedom was simply irrepres- 
sible. Whenever a company, or squad, or detachment 
of soldiers, was about to leave town for the front, my 
anxiety, young as I was, to gird on the sword and 
march to the scene of battle, could not be extinguished. 
AVhat were the arts of civil life to me, when my country 
was in peril, from the hand of confederate traitors. 

Often would I quit the store, and go home to ]3lead 
with my father for the privilege of enlisting in defense 
of my country ; and as often would he repel my plea, 
and convert ]ny hope into discouragement, by the can- 
did and truthful statement, prompted as it was by a 
father's tenderness for his first born, that I was too 
young to bear the hai-d ships and privations of a soldier's 
life. Again, and again would I return to my vocation 



INCIDENTS OF TOWN LIFE. 35 

in town, sick at heart and almost in controversy with 
Heaven, because I had not been born sooner, or because 
the war for the Union could not be postponed for a 
few years, so as to give me a man's assured preroga- 
tive to decide for myself the grave issue between my 
parents and their son. 

Meanwhile, I was not wholly inactive, in regard to 
military discipline. Along with Mr. Walker, who was 
quick in comprehending tlie drill, we filled our hours 
of recreation, when the mood was strongest upon us, in 
going through the manual of arms; and, months be- 
fore the period at which the Greenville newsboy became 
a boy in blue, I was quite proficient in some of the 
more diflficult exercises performed by the educated 
soldier. After a little time, my desire to enlist became 
almost insupportable. I went home for a time, and in 
the course of a few weeks after this, my employer, to 
whom I was strongly attached, went into the service, 
leaving me to all the anguish of spirit, which comes 
from hope deferred! 

DEATH OF MR. WAI.KER. 

Months again sped away, and the news at last came 
to us that Mr. Walker had been severel}', if not fatally, 
wounded, and was about to return home. This intel- 
ligence proved to be true. He came back among us 
once more to gladen our siglit with his familiar pres- 
ence, but sadly altered in appearance. Though still 
young the elasticity of his form was gone; yet in some 
partial degree his health was temporarily recruited. 



36 SILVER SHEAVES. 

At this time, he took to the altar a young lady to 
whom he had plighted his troth before he went to the 
war, and his numerous friends who esteemed him for his 
solid virtues, and loved him for the kindliness and at- 
tractiveness of his manners, began to entertain the 
hope that many years of happiness were yet in reserve 
for him and his beloved wife. This hope was destined 
to be disappointed. The wound wliich he had received 
in the service of his country was be_yond the skill of 
the most scientific snrgeon, and after lingering awhile 
longer among us, endnring pain with the patience and 
fortitude of a true soldier of the republic, this excellent 
friend of mine, whose memory is prized as a precious 
legacy, passed away from the conflicts of earth to the 
repose of the grave. His widow did not long survive 
him. 

When this frail body shall have done with earth, 

And this heart shall be free from care ; 
When my spirit shall enter the other world, 

Oh, say shall I know thee there. 

When the last hours of life close round, 

And death's summons cometh to me. 
Will God send an angel messenger down — 

Shall 1 know the bright spirit as thee? 

Rest weary heart, rest patiently and wait 

Till thy happiness cometh to thee, 
Thou'lt meet and thou'lt know when thou gainest that shore 

Which opes to eternity. 



AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 



3T 



CHAPTEE 11. 



AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 

We pass out from the city's feverish hum 

To find refreshment in the silent woods. 

N. P. Willis, 

But 'tis not thus — and 'tis not here- 
Such thoughts would shake my soul — nor now — 
Where glory decks the hero's bier, 

Or binds his brow. 

Byron . 

Intemperance and Gaming— My Unrest at Home — My Trip 
East— Tobacco and Reform— Trip to Ohio — Resolve to 
Enlist. 

INTEMPERANCE. 

Before proceeding with the march of events in their 
regular order I must pause here to speak of a subject 
of the highest possible importance, especially to my 
young readers. If any part of my experience can be 
employed as a warning to deter others from imitating 
a bad example I am perfectly willing to make the pro- 
per recital, no matter how deeply I may deplore the 
events which it becomes necessary for me to record. 
In producing this volume my object is to accomplish 
good, and I am well aware that there are passages in 



38 SILVER SHEAVES. 

my career which, while they bring remorse to me as 
they are recalled, may, nevertheless, be instrumental 
in saving some poor misguided being from indulging 
in vices, the efiect of which are hurtful and indeed per- 
nicious to the souls and bodies of men. 

Not long after taking up my abode in Greenville I 
had occasion one day to pass through a certain portion 
of the town, on some unimportant errand. A little dis- 
tance in advance of me I saw a long narrow building 
of unique structure, and, as far as my knowledge ex- 
tended, its character was profoundly mysterious. It 
may be that I noticed the sign above the door, on which 
were inscribed the words, "Ten-pin Alley." If I did 
so, the words themselves gave me no deiinite informa- 
tion; for whatever the business was which was carried 
on in the building it was unknown to my limited ex- 
perience. Inspired by curiosity I passed through the 
door and took a view of the interior. Several persons 
were there busily engaged in rolling large balls along 
alleys, which traversed the entire apartment. Settees, 
for the accommodation of patrons and visitors, were 
posted along the wall, on one of which I seated myself 
to take a deliberate survey of the scene in progress. 
Having satisfied my curiosity, for the time, I departed. 
The next day found me there again. On this occasion, 
when some gentleman had the good fortune to knock 
down the pins, I was invited to set them up. Being a 
novice in the business I answered that I did not know 
how. The proprietor kindly proffered to show me 
how this feat was performed, and after a little time, I 
learned the art to perfection. 



AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 39 

Part of lV.ie next two days was consumed in the same 
thoughtless manner. It was on the fourth day, I be- 
lieve, after my entrance into the Bowling Alley that I 
was induced to take something to drink. Before, when 
liquor was called for by the contestants in the games, 
I took candy for my share, rejecting the beverage that 
was offered. On this day, however, there were tor- 
mentors present who plagued me for my boyish love 
of candy, and challenged me to drink with them. I 
weakly yielded to the temptation. A small quantity 
of liquor was poured out for me into a diminutive 
glass, and I drank it. Its effect was immediate and 
very pleasant; and from that day forward I was in the 
habit of drinking every time I visited the place. At 
last I became so used to the familiar beverage, that, 
when 1 wished to imbibe, I would not permit the bar- 
tender to measure out the amount of liquor I was to 
take, but assumed that high privilege myself, fearing 
perhaps, that he would economize to a greater extent 
than my increasing appetite for stimulating drink 
would warrant. 

Several days after my induction into the mysteries 
of ten-pins, I met a boy at the alley, of nearly my own 
age, who invited me to play a game with him. At 
that time I had but little confidence in my ability in 
this direction, and beside this, I had no money with 
me. Under the circumstances, I deemed it prudent to 
decline the invitation; but the boy was importunate, 
and at length I yielded. The result was as I had 
anticipated. 1 was beaten, and the proprietor gave 



40 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



me credit for the drinks. Next da}^ I met the same 
boj at the same place, and another invitation to play 
grew out of this meeting. After considerable hesita- 
tion on my part, as I feared the consequences of a 
second defeat, I finally consented, as usual. This time 
victory perched upon my banner, and my competitor 
was compelled to pay the charges. I began now to 
take a deeper interest in the game than ever before, 
and vastly too much of my time was occupied in ac- 
quiring proficiency in it. Ultimately, my dexterity 
in rolling the balls was the subject of much compli- 
ment in gaming circles. Once I had the honor of 
entering the lists against an expert from Xew York; 
and on another occasion, I was ])itted against a star 
player from England. Out from both of these contests 
I came victorious. My fellow townsmen, who took 
part in such games, were always sanguine of success 
when I was chosen on their side. 

Inspired with a boys' vanity, my success seemed to 
warrant me in the belief that in other games besides 
the one in which I had borne so conspicuous a part, I 
would be equally fortunate; but in this I was sadly 
mistaken. Repeated trials at cards developed the fact 
that I had no chance for success while playing against 
professionals; and the effort to master the science of 
billiards which I frequently made, resulted in no better 
fortune. The minute confession I have made in these 
paragraphs of my increasing fondness for alcoholic 
drinks, after the first perilous glass was taken, Avill 
operate, I trust, as a salutary warning to all my young 



AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 41 

readers; and as gambling is essentially allied to drink- 
ing, I hope that the recital I have given in reference 
to my deep passion for a game which not only con- 
sumes precious time and squanders money, but often 
leads its poor victim to moral shipwreck, rvin and 
death, will also do good. In retrospecting this melan- 
choly portion of my life, I cannot be too thankful that 
the poor boy, who, in his thoughtlessness and inexper- 
ience once trod the veri^^e of a o-reat moral disaster to 
himself, was, in after time, saved from the snares that 
beset his pathway, and his feet were transferred from 
the places of danger to that Rock which constitutes 
the only sure foundation. 

MY rNEKSr AT UOME 

After I left town my mind was so embarrassed that 
home had no charms for me. As one pleadeth for liis 
life, so I plead to go to the army. But my father was 
unyielding. So like Xoah's dove, seeking rest but 
iindinof none, I enffao^ed in the various duties of domes- 
tic farm life; but this was unsuited to my restless 
nature. I could not be contented. I loved activity — 
something new and thrilling. 

MY TRIP EAST. • 

Noting the condition of my mind, which now 
amounted to agony, my father gave me permission to 
quit my monotonous life on the farm, and take a trip 
East. As a matter of economy in my mode of travel, 
I hired out to a Mr. Nisby, who was about to take a 



42 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



drove of sheep to the eastern market. Aii}^ one who 
knows what tlie lite of a drover is, understands the 
fact that it is full of perils and moral quicksands. In 
this sense, it was peculiarly hazardous at the period 
of which I am writing. On account of the war, society 
was in an inflammable condition, and the moral 
I'estraints which are so useful in peace times, were 
driven away. The hotels along our route were com, 
monly crowded Avith excited men; and the temptation 
to drink of the poisonous cup was repeated on every 
hand, with a fascination and power which I did not 
attempt to repel or control. It is no wonder, there- 
fore, that the habit which began in the Bowling Alley 
in Greenville, suffered no abatement in my wanderings 
eastward. 

Late in June, 1863, I took this trip; I was much 
delighted with it. I passed through a richly fertilized 
country. The fields were waving with golden grain, 
the trees were loaded with fruit, and all nature seemed 
to rejoice. I gazed on the hills and saw hundreds of 
cattle grazing on them. 

As I passed through the valley, my mind was every- 
where regaled with the enchanting scences of nature. 
The redolent flowers, the rich herbage, the green shrub- 
bery, and majestic trees, all sharing alike the bounties 
of nature, and expanding and basking in the resplen- 
dent rays of the meridian sun, impressed my mind 
with the goodness of God. 

The rural village, cozily nestled among the trees; the 
enterprising town, with its busy throng hastening to 



AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 43 

and from their daily toil; the city, with its g-randeur, 
its richly furnished palaces, and templed churches 
whose spires seemed to reach the clouds, were subjects 
of much interest to me. 

The Fourth of July, that glorious day of Independ- 
ence, I spent at Philipsburg. This village is situated 
at the foot of the Allegheny Mountains. The scenery 
from this place is imposing. The rugged mountain 
peaks, clothed in living green, whose tops tower one 
above the other until they are lost in the ether blue of 
heaven, are on one hand, while on the other a winding 
river glides rapidly away. 

The next place that arrested my attention was Penn's 
Valley. This is the grandest and most picturesque 
portion of land through which I had passed. The 
generosity of the inhabitants is unequaled. They wel- 
come a stranger as a friend, and treat him as a brother. 
My entire journey was full of pleasant and interesting 
scenes. 

At this time Lee was invading Pennsylvania, and 
the country was submerged in the wildest excitement. 
Business was suspended, and men were responding to 
the immediate call for troops. You who have felt the 
symptoms of war-fever can imagine my feelings at 
this epoch. 

On the 3d of July, when we were within a few miles 
of Phillipsburg, heavy cannonading from the field of 
Gettysburg was distinctly heard. The reader will 
remember that this was the third, and the final, day 
of the greatest battle of the war. It was fought in a 



44 SILVER SHEAVES. 

free State, and it was intended b}' the Confederate 
General to be the first of a series of Rebel victories in 
tlie North; and during the night which preceded the 
glorious Fourth, his demoralized army, crushed into 
fragments by the assaults of Freedom's hosts, fled 
away, as a gory remnant, from the scene of carnage. 
From tliat time forth the overthrow of the rebellion 
was a question simply of time. It was already in the 
last stage of collapse. To have participated in the 
crowning engagement at Gettysbnrg would have been 
glory indeed; but, if I was denied that privilege, I was 
compensated by hearing the thunderous voice of war, 
as it came down from those sanguinary hills, on which 
the fate of the great insurrection \vas decided. 

TOBACCO "fHEWING AND KEFOEM. 

My Eastern trip gave me ample apportunity to in- 
dulge in another vice, which had been contracted 
some little time before — I refer to tobacco chewing. 
My father, whose freedom from the habit gave him 
authority to speak, had often expostulated with me, 
but without efl^'ect. My passion for the weed was pro- 
gressive in character, like the one which referred to 
stimulating drinks. In other words, it increased very 
rapidly. In my capacity as drover, it took full pos- 
session of me; and my friends would not have re- 
garded me in a normal or healthy condition, if they 
had not found me in the full tide of expectoration, 
Math my cheeks inflated by the passionable weed. Al- 
though a little out of the regular order, in point of 



AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 45 

chronology, I will conclude ir this chapter what I have 
to say on this subject, hoping that others who have 
been victimized by the nauseous practice, may be 
warned and benefited by my experience. 

The habit with me grew so enormously, that on re- 
turning from my Eastern trip it was my custom to 
consume half a dollar's worth of tobacco in a week. 
This wholesale consumption, for a boy who had not 
tarried long enough in Jericho to develop a manly 
beard, did not embrace the habit of smoking, for up 
to that time this latter accomplishment had not been 
learned. I was sensible all the while I was doing in- 
jury both to my health and to my morals; and, aside 
from this, I was exciting the displeasure of my parents. 
But still I went on, rolling the sweet morsel in my 
mouth, and postponing indefinitely the day of refor- 
mation. 

One Saturday afternoon, late in the year 1863, 1 laid 
in a supply of tobacco for the coming week, paying the 
customary fee therefor, fifty cents. That night I re- 
mained awake very late. Next morning in passing 
out from the breakfast table, I was observed to take a 
chew. This was an uncommon thing for me to do in 
my father's house, in spite of the fact that the habit 
exercised such a dominant influence over me. My 
father expressed a very strong wish that I would quit 
th« vile weed. A sudden inspiration seized me, I saw 
my chance, and immediately took advantage of it. I 
had reached that age of incipient manhood, when the 
boy, for a variety of reasons, has a passion for fine 



46 SILVER SHEAVES. 

clothes. I turned to my father, and propounded to 
liim this simple question: 

'What will you give me, sir, if I quit chewing." 

"I will give you most anything in reason," was the 
fatherly response. 

"Will you give me a suit of clothes?" I asked. 

"Yes," was the laconic answer. 

I knew that my father was in earnest and so was I. 
The quid in my mouth was ejected with a gesture of 
contempt. My resolution was formed, and I knew it 
would be held sacred in the future. In matters of 
trifling moment compared to this, when changes of 
base were decided, my perseverance in reform was 
rather doubtful; but, a resolution of the character I 
had just made, involving results immeasurably supe- 
rior to the suit of garments that had been promised, 
would be faithfully kept to the end. And so it has 
been thus far. From that day to this tobacco chewing 
has not been in the list of my habits, nor will it be to 
the end of life. My father was even better than his 
word, for the clothes he gave me, as a reward for pa- 
tient continuance in well-doing, were better than 1 ex- 
pected, and were all that I could have desired. 

To pursue this subject further before dismissing it, 
it is proper to state, that when I entered the army, as 
detailed in another place, I found that smoking was 
almost universal among my comrades. For a chewer, 
or one who has been such, to gravitate into a smoker, 
is to pass through a very easy transition. Amid such 
surroundings as the army afforded, it was far more 



AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 47 

difficult to resist temjjtation than it would have been 
in civil life. The conventional restraints of home 
society were not there, and the reader will not be sur- 
prised when he hears that I was, in time, transformed 
into a common smoker; but the promise I gave to my 
father, which referred to chewing only, w^as strictly 
observed. 

In the army, and out of it, I remained a smoker un- 
til 'New Years day, 1871, when, at Monroe, Iowa, I 
abandoned the habit forever. On that day I was sur- 
rounded with peculiar tempta'jions to continue the bad 
practice. Every one seemed to enjoy his cigar or his 
pipe, yet in the midst of this smoking mania I threw 
away my cigar and vowed never to tolerate in myself 
the vice again. When I stopped chew^ing, years be- 
fore at home, 1 sold for ten cents my last instalment 
of tobacco, which had cost me, the day previous, five 
times as much, and thus removed myself from its per- 
nicious influence; and years after, I bade adieu to the 
kindred vice of smoking. Any honest and intelligent 
user of tobacco must concede that either of tliese habits 
injures the digestive organs and enfeebles the common 
energies of the system. It often produces dyspepsia; 
sometimes terminates in neuralgia. It engenders a 
host of bodily evils, and besides this, it is the strongest 
ally of drunkenness, as it begets a taste for alcoholic 
stimulants. I am an avowed enemy of tobacco, in all 
the forms in which this narcotic drug may present 
itself; and glad am I that my system, and my Christian 
morals, have been purged forever from its gross im- 



48 SILVER SHEAVES. 

purities. My dear reader, if one or the other, or both 
of the vices about which I have been writing, are cling- 
ing to you, I beseech you to throw them off, before 
your very manhood shall have been crushed out by 
their malign power! 

TRIP TO OHIO. 

I must now return to the regular course of events. 
My journey, during the summer of 1863, was, as here- 
tofore intimated, an expedient to withdraw my mind 
from the settled gloom, which was caused by an uir 
gratified longing to go into the service. It is true that 
the change of scene induced by travel gave me some 
relief, but this was temporary; and when I reached 
home once more and found that so many of my old 
friends iiad already gone to the front, leaving a melan- 
choly vacancy beliind, the war fever, which had never 
been conquered, burned again in my heart with re- 
newed power. A young friend of mine who had just 
enlisted was about to visit his relatives in Ohio before 
proceeding to the army, and my father, seeing my 
distress of mind and being anxious to relieve it, yet 
unwilling for me to go to the war, gave me permission 
to accompany my friend in his journey. 

On this trip I had an opportunity to see much fine 
scenery, which was distributed through wealthy and 
populous sections. We met with a kind welcome 
everywhere, and our stay was deferred beyond the 
time at which we had designed to return. On the 
return trip, while we were yet within a few miles of 



AN ANXIOUS YEAR. 49 

home, we happened to be present in a little musical 
assemblage, where I had the happiness to meet my 
sister. I was pained to learn that, during my absence, 
the report was circulated that I had enlisted and gone 
off to the army. This was afflicting news to the 
family; but, when my father heard it, he seemed to 
recede from the strong position he had all along taken 
with me in regard to the war question. He stated to 
the family, as my sister informed me, that he had ex- 
hausted every plea, and every argument in his power, to 
induce me to remain at home, and now, if I were still 
resolved to go, he would take no further steps in oppo- 
sition. Although this language did not give me the 
full consent I desired, yet it filled me with joy. I 
accepted it as a tacit permission, at least, to use my 
own discretion in the premises. In a burst of patri- 
otism, I then and there dedicated myself to the service 
of my imperiled country, feeling a willingness, if need 
be, to die in so sacred a cause. 

EESOLVE TO ENLIST. 

I went home with a happy heart, only to be dis- 
heartened by the unwillingness of,my friends to have 
me go. They tried to discourage me in every way, 
telling me my constitution was too delicate to endure 
the duties that would be required of me; but this was 
of no avail. I assured them that I would come back ; 
and, with an anxious heart, I counted the weary hours 
that necessarily intervened before I could have an 
opportunity of enlisting. 



50 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Ah! little did I think these would be the ^ast hours 
I would spend in the then unbroken family circle — the 
last advice I would receive from the lips of a kind 
mother, or else these hours would have been fkr too 
short! I little thought that happy circle Nvas soon to 
lose its guiding star, and the dear face that always 
welcomed me with a smile would greet me at the gate- 
way no more. Oh, these sad partings! Little do we 
tliink when we give the parting hand that we shall 
meet no more until w^ m.eet on the echoless shore of 
eternity ! 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 51 



OHAPTEE III 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 

Who can be loyal and neutral 
At the same time ? No man. 

SJiakspeare. 

We fight for our liberty, our country and its free institutions. 

Talk with Recruiting Officer — Incidents of Enlistment 
— My Mother's Bible — At Home — Strange Presentiments 
— Final Departure — The Gallant Thirteen — From 
Pittsburg to Camp Copeland — Roundheads and French 
Furloughs — Incidents in Camp — Last Ordeal. 

talk with keckuiting officer. 

I HAVE now brought up tliis record of personal events 
to the most momentous period of my life — the most 
momentous, because the incidents I am about to relate 
were of a character to change the whole course and 
fashion of my subsequent history — I refer, of course, to 
my enlistment. 

Monday morning, Feb. 29, 1864, I left home for 
Greenyille, designing while there to institute some 
means to get into the service. Before starting I ijien- 
tioned the purpose of my visit to town to the family, 



52 SILVER SHEAVES. 

no member of which entertained a thought that this 
would be a decisive day to me, in regard to my ulti- 
mate enlistment. In previous chapters the reader has 
been made acquainted with the persistent and system- 
atic opposition with which my desire to go into the 
army was confronted from first to last by my friends 
at home. Entreaty, arguments and parental authority 
had been used. My extreme youthfulness was a crown- 
ing argument employed on all occasions, and my father 
never gave up the contest until he saw that by main- 
taining his position to keep me at home, he would not 
only interfere with my plain conviction of duty, but 
would possibly embitter my whole future life. 

WhilQ at Greenville, on that eventful Monday, I 
met a recruiting ofiicer of my acquaintance, of whom 
I asked this question: 

"Do you think, sir, I would pass an examination if 
I were to enlist?" 

"I don't know," was the answer. 

I then said to him: "I want to enlist, and if you 
wnll put me through, I will go." 

To make the subject understood I will here state 
that the office of the Provost Marshal for our district 
was at Meadville, twenty-six miles by rail from Green- 
ville. I had no money wherewith to pay expenses. 
After a little reflection the officer expressed a belief 
that I would pass, and kindly proposed to take me to 
Meadville, and also have me sent home again if I failed 
to go through the ordeal of examination. 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 53 

INCIDENTS OF ENLISTMENT. 

On the same day we took the cars for Meadville, at 
which place I was enrolled a few hours later. It was 
in the afternoon of the second day after my arrival, that 
I was called upon to pass through the first ordeal in 
presence of the examining surgeon, Dr. Baskin. Many 
others had preceeded me in this examination; and 
some of these, as they came out of the surgeon's office, 
I closely interrogated in regard to the tests that were 
applied. I soon discovered that unless the applicant 
weighed 110 pounds, he would, in all probability be re- 
jected. 

Several times, during those memorable days of trial 
and apprehension, I repaired to places where scales 
were to be found, to see how nearly my weight would 
correspond with the government standard. Each trial 
of this kind resulted in the conviction, that unless 
strategy were summoned to my aid I would return 
home rejected, and sadly dissappointed. At last my 
name was called, and with many misgivings I appeared 
in the presence of the surgeon. There were some 
points on which I passed very well. I remember that 
in measuring my chest, and in noting the power of my 
lungs in respiration which increased the girth of the 
chest from 28 to 34 inches, he said I would never die 
of consumption. After running and leaping about 
the room for a time, to give proof of personal activity, 
the critical and doubtful part of the trial came, the 
part, indeed, which had, by way of anticipation, shaken 
me wiih a feeling of uncertainty and dread. The doc- 



54 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



tor invited me to take my place on the platform of the 
scales to ascertain ray weight. The proper peas were 
adjusted, indicating 110 pounds. Wliatever my ap- 
prehensions may have been, I suppressed all outward 
display of feeling, and bringing into requision all the 
address and moral courage I possessed, I leaped, rather 
than stepped upon the platform, expecting to see the 
beam rebound under the quick pressure. To my dis- 
may no such event occured. The beam remained im- 
movably in its place. I had, however, taken the pre- 
caution at the proper time, to regard the surgeon with 
an expression, so full of anxiety to carry myself suc- 
cessfully through the examination, that, as I stood on 
the scales, in a state of terrible suspense, he authorized 
an assistant to record my weight at 110 pounds. 

Thus far I had gained a decided victory, but another 
sharp ordeal awaited me. Along with a number of 
other applicants, I was ushered into the room of the 
provost marshal, Capt. Derickson. Among the new 
recruits in the marshal's office, there were three who, 
although smaller than their companions, were all larger 
than myself. Apparently conscious of their bodily in- 
feriority, these three volunteers placed themselves at 
the foot of the column, to await the verdict of the mar- 
shal. I felt sure that if I joined them my cause was 
hopelessly lost. Inspired by a sudden resolution, I 
stepped boldly between two applicants who, though 
not greatly taller than myself, were sure, in my opin- 
ion, to pass muster with the officer. If an observer 
had been at the rear of the column he would have 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 55 

noticed, perhaps, that in giving a fictitions statnre to 
my person, the heels of my boots were elevated per- 
ceptibly from the floor. The three boys to whom I 
have referred were promptly dismissed and sent home. 
Glancing along the colnmn, as it remained, the Cap- 
tain fixed, for a moment, his penetrating eye on me. 
Unabashed by this ofiicial inspection, I reciprocated 
by directing my gaze on him, in such a determined 
manner that it seemed to baflie his scrutiny. Imme- 
diately afterward, all the recruits in line, including 
myself, were invited to hold up our hands while the 
oath was administered. The reader need not be told 
that my hand went up with remarkable quickness on 
that occasion. Tlius was I sworn into service, on the 
first day of March, 1864. 

MY mother's bible. 

After my induction into the service I received a 
permit to return home for a couple of days. This 
brief interval of time was occupied in visiting friends, 
and in making preparation for my departure. An in- 
cident which occurred on my way home will never 
perish from my memory. Just about halfway between 
Greenville and my lather's residence I saw my mother 
approaching along the road. It was her custom to 
ride when visiting town, but at this time she was 
walking. As she came near me, I saw in her face the 
traces of mental suflering; tears were trickling down 
her cheeks. When she saw me a smile of glad recog- 
nition lighted up her features. I was anxious to know 



56 SILVER SHEAVES. 

the cause which had induced her, in her lapsed state 
of health, to undergo the fatigue of walking to town. 

" I am going there," said she, with an accent of 
motherly tenderness which I shall never forget, "to 
purchase a Bible for you, ray son, that it may be your 
guide and counsellor, in camp and on the march, when 
you are far away from home." 

She had already learned that I was an enlisted sol- 
dier, and with a mother's anxiety, she was executing 
her plans for my comfort, and especially for my relig- 
ious training, when away from under the parental roof. 

" I am glad to know, mother," said I, taking out a 
volume and showing it to lier with pride, " that I have 
stolen a march on you in this matter. Knowing that 
you desired it, and believing, also, it would be of great 
benefit to me, I bought a copy of the Bible to-day in 
Greenville. Here it is, mother." 

A flood of conscious joy seemed to overspread her 
countenance. Her heart was full of unutterable hap- 
piness, and every feature seemed to reflect it. I make 
the honest confession here that I purchased the book, 
not so much to benefit myself, as to give comfort and 
satisfaction to my mother. Readers of this work have 
examined it so far with but little attention if they 
have concluded that the obligations of Christianity 
possessed any great influence with me at this time. 
Such was not the case. True, I had been surrounded 
with religious advantages of no common order. My 
parents were both devotedly pious ; and their example 
and their admonitions were such as would naturally 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 



57 



flow from such a source; yet the thoughtlessness and 
waywardness of my disposition, combined with the 
recklessness which commonly attaches to the young, 
had too often withdrawn my mind from the contem- 
plation of religious subjects. Still, young and thought- 
less as I was, tlie expression of joy in my mother's 
face when her eye fell upon the inspired volume in my 
hands thrilled me to the very depths of my being; 
and were I to live to tlie age of the oldest patriarch, 
that meeting with my dear mother and the circum- 
stances connected with it, will live and bloom in fade- 
less remembrance. 

AT HOME. 

The two days allotted to me on furlough were busy 
ones indeed. My blanket, haversack and canteen were 
made to display my name, or the initials thereof. A. 
variety of delicacies, such as a mother only knows how 
to prepare, were stored away for my future use; and 
the other members of the family vied with each other 
in showing me those delicate and affectionate atten- 
tions which give strength and grace to the sacred bond 
of relationship. How quickly the hours flew by on 
golden wings, never to return. It may be that now 
and then a feeling of regret for the farewells of the 
morrow would flit vaguely through my mind, giving 
me a sense of uneasiness and unrest, but a moment 
later the compensation would come in the thought 
that I had given myself as a free offering to my coun- 
try, and that my highest happiness as well as my most 



58 SILVER SHEAVES. 

sacred dnt}' would be associated with its defense, so 
long as armed traitors were seeking to destroy it. 

STEAISTGE PKESENTIMENTS. 

At length the day came, and the hour, in which I 
was destined to move out from the charmed circle 
at home, leaving a vacant place at the table and around 
the family altar. It was an impressive day to me, the 
incidents of which are inscribed on the tablet of mem- 
ory, never to be effaced! I took the parting hand with 
friends that day, whom I was never to see again; but 
as I parted with them, no premonition came to me 
that before I should return tVom the gory field of war 
they would be removed to the shadowy realm of the 
grave. There were two, however, my mother and my 
old employer, Mr. Walker, whose hands, as they 
grasped mine, with an endearing and lingering press- 
ure, thrilled me with a strange and indescribable feel- 
ing, such as I had never felt before. If I failed, at the 
time, to attach any special importance to this mag- 
netic or spiritual sensation, I had occasion to recall it 
afterward, with the liveliest emotion, when, amid 
strange and hostile scenes, far away from the home 
of my childhood, the news came to me that my patron 
and my mother had passed away from the tribulations 
of earth. I knew, then, that the electric thrill which, 
months before, I experienced at the moment of part- 
ing, was a presentiment that the farewell then spoken 
was final and irreversible, so far as earth is concerned, 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 59 

and that no reunion would follow until the light of 
eternity would break on that hallowed scene. 

FINAL DEPARTURE. 

Early in March, after ray first furlough expired, I 
reported at the provost marshal's office in Meadville, 
and the following day we took the cars for Pittsburgh, 
via Greenville. 

The train was heavily laden with "boys in blue," 
and, as we came into Greenville, the station was 
crowded with men, women and children. As the sun 
burst forth and cast her resplendent rays upon this 
scene, and while the band was filling the air with sweet 
music, the train slowly moved on. One thought of 
home, one thought of its loved associations, one glance 
at the place where my happy boyhood was spent, and 
all faded from my view. 

As the velocity of the train increased peals of laugh- 
ter were ringing in all parts of the car; but, alas! of 
that merry band many are now sleeping with the 
silent, silent dead. "Rest, noble heroes, in your 
graves unknown ; from toil and trouble ye are free." 

As we passed the crowded stations loyal hearts would 
cheer us as the defenders of peace and liberty. 

THE GALLANT THIRTEEN. 

For some reason, and it may be a superstitions one, 
the number thirteen has often been regarded as ill- 
omened and unfortunate. From the immediate com- 
munity of which I had been a member, there were 



60 SILVER SHEAVES. 

tliirteen of lis who enlisted in the service. Whatever 
may have been the feelings of the others in reference 
to their ultimate return to their friends, I may here say 
for myself, that I had tlie strongest conviction, from 
first to last, that I would be among the survivors ; and, 
when friends would dissuade me from enlistment by 
predicting for me a cruel death, I laughed at their 
fears and spoke lightly of their prophecies. 

The melancholy confession, however, must be made, 
that whatever good fortune was in store for any of us, 
there were but four of tlie original number who sur- 
vived the war, and but one (Cassius Fell) who came 
home un wounded. The names of the four are as fol- 
lows: Cassius Fell, Horace Granger, A. D. Homer, 
and myself. The nine to whom war was fatal were: 
Abner "Woods, E, W. Keck, Simon Smith, Samuel 
Smith, Harvey Smith, Israel Gongeware, G. A. Blank, 
Thomas Shaner, and John Yanderpool, Three only 
of the thirteen were not members of my company, 
viz: E. W. Keck, and Simon and Harvey Smith. In 
point of time Mr. Keck was the first to enlist. Three 
of the nine who perished, as will be seen by the names, 
were brothers. Such, in part at least, is the history 
of this little band of soldiers, with whom I was iden- 
tified, through weary months of peril and privation, 
in the Army of the Potomac. 

FEOM PITTSBURGH TO CAMP COPELAND. 

At length we reached Pittsburgh. Here everything 
was in motion. Everywhere were to be seen groups 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 61 

and squads of soldiers; for they were pouring into 
this general rendezvous from every direction. After 
wading through the crowded streets, we reached the 
" Soldier's Eest," where we rested for the night, and, 
in the morning, took the train for Braddock, and 
marched from there to 

CAMP COPELAND. 

This camp is eleven miles from Pittsburg, situated 
on an eminent bluff, and from this elevation you have 
a commanding view of the surrounding country. On 
either side stretches forth the iron rail, over which the 
lightning trains pass with impetuous velocity, while 
to the southwest flows the waters of the Monongahela. 
I passed weary hours watching the locomotive as it sped 
along, or watching the steamboats quietly making 
their way up and down the river. 

Reader, we will now take a view of the interior of 
the camp. As you enter, to the right is the headquar- 
ters building, with the nation's flag proudly floating- 
over it, Be^'ond this, the medical depot, the book 
store, and the sutler's shop. The attraction of this 
last named place was so great that a crowd was con- 
stantly congregated there, purchasing pies, cakes and 
other eatables. It was suspected that these articles 
were not genuine, but composed of inferior and adul- 
terated substances — in short, that they were " dragged.'' 
In this way a larger percentage was made than if the 
articles had been made of genuine material. A remon- 
strance was sent in against the sutlers. Accordingly, 



62 SILVER SHEAVES. 

an investigation was made by four physicians of Pitts- 
burgh, who pronounced tlieir pies, cakes and so forth, 
drugged. The hospital showed tlie effects of this 
nefarious practice. 

To the left and ojjosite the headquarters were field 
tents, and beyond this tliree lines of barracks. In the 
rear of these were vaious buildings — artists' rooms, 
cook houses, guard-house, invalid barracks, offices, etc. 
These were the prominent features of Camj) Copeland. 

KOUNDHEADS AND FRENCH FUKLOUGHS. 

In March, 1S64, the 100th Regiment Pennsylvania 
Yolunteers, known as the " Eoundheads," returning 
from veteran furlough, pitched tents and encamped 
for several days alongside of our camp, and, as the 
guard had no authority to prevent them from passing 
in and out at leisure, this afibrded the inmates of our 
camp a splendid opportunity to take " French fur- 
loughs," which they were not slow in doing; for many 
availed themselves of this opportunity by placing the 
figures " 100 " on their caps. They could thus pass 
the guard unsuspected and unmolested. 

But it was no wonder many were tired of this camp, 
for it was completely flooded with mud and filth of 
every description. The very air seemed thickened with 
noxious vapors, which arose from the stench of decom- 
posing matter. 

Reader, this is not an overdrawn picture, but every 
feature is colored with the pencil of truth. 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 63 

INCIDENTS IN CAMP. 

At the time of \vhicli I am writing Camp Copeland 
contained between two thousand and three thousand 
persons distributed around miscellaneously. Some 
were officers, many others were new recruits like my- 
self, waiting for the final disposition that was to be 
made of them. The guards who were taken from the 
Invalid Corps established their cordon around the en- 
tire encampment; but, situated as they were, a rod 
apart, they were unable, as intimated above, to restrain 
the boys from frequent escapes. It was an easy mat- 
ter, as my own experience will testily, to conceal my- 
self, in the dusky twilight, on one side of a wagon, 
while the unsuspecting guard was on the other. In 
this manner I made my way out several times, without 
detection; but some of the soldiers were not so fortu- 
nate. The punishments for this offense, and for others 
of a grav^er character, M^ere prompt and severe. 

There were four kinds of dicipline administered to 
the boys, when found guilty. For the more common 
violations of military law, imprisonment in the guard 
liouse, was the usual penalty. , The barrel punishment 
was somewhat novel and exciting, and not at all agree- 
able to the victim. A brief description of this form 
of correction may be deemed necessary to its proper 
understanding. The entire head of an empty barrel is 
taken out, while from the other end the central piece 
only is removed, leaving quite an orifice. The barrel 
then is j^laced down over the culpit so that his head 
will project from the central opening, which has 



C4: SILVER SHEAVES. 

been mentioned. In this way the arms of the j)oor 
fellow are pressed rigidly against his sides, while at 
the other extremity his power of locomotion is greatly 
embarrased on account of the compulsory shortness of 
his strides. Accoutred in this style the culpit is com- 
pelled to walk around, exciting the laughter and ridi- 
cule of all who witness the strange spectacle. ■ On 
other occasions the guilty party is forced to shoulder a 
heavy piece of timber; and thus freighted he is 
made to keep step with the guard, often for hours 
without intermission, while sweltering in the heat of 
the sun. The thumb punishment embraces all that is 
fearful, inhuman and horrible. A small cord of ex- 
treme tenacity, is tied tightly around each thumb, 
while the other end is fastened to a strong spike, which 
is driven into the exterior wall of the guard house, 
some distance above the head of the delinquent. In 
some cases the victim is compelled to stand on tiptoe. 
In this unnatural attitude, the strain on his thumbs 
and arms, as well as on his whole bodily organism, is 
intense and exquisitely painful. 

It hap]3ened one day tliat a recruit, who had enlisted 
for the Roundheads and was here waiting to be sent to 
his regiment, was found guilty of some misdemeanor, 
and the thumb punishment was applied. While the 
poor fellow was suffering the tortures of the inquisi- 
tion, a sympathizing soldier, belonging to the Round- 
heads, clandestinely cut him down and hurried him off 
in the direction of his regiment, which was encamped 
on the other part of the bluffs. An immediate excite- 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 65 

meiit in the camp was the result. Hundreds of enlisted 
men, whose sympathies were actively with the victim, 
and against the abuses of tyranny, followed tlie two 
in a tumultuous throng. Observing that the crowd 
were forcing their way, in contempt of authority, past 
the guards, the officers hastened to obstruct their 
course; but the mutiny was in full tide, bearing down 
all opposition. One gentleman, with shoulder-strap at- 
tachments, who was taking a prominent part in fpiiet- 
ing the riot, was struck several times by his assailants. 
At last, when all other means had failed, the order 
was given, and a vollej^ of musketry was fired into the 
advancing throng. 

Unaware, at the moment, that the guns had been 
loaded with blank cartridges, the boys thus fired on 
were seized with a sudden panic, and turning round 
in consternation fled in every possible direction. The 
scene that ensued was simply indescribable. For half 
a minute, or less, nothing was seen but an undefined 
mass of human forms rushing, wriggling and quiver- 
ing, in every attitude of distress and confusion that 
could be assumed. Scores of the men fell sprawling 
in the execrable mud that abounded in the camp, and 
before they had time to rise, dripping with filth, many 
(jthers, somewhat less unfortunate, tumbled in layers 
upon their prostrate bodies. 

Some time elapsed before order was restored in 
camp, and when this desirable condition was estab- 
lished, it was discovered that the victim of arbitrary 
punishment and his friend had escaped to the 100th 



QQ SILVER SHEAVES. 

regiment. A formal demand was made by our offi- 
cers for their return, but it was peremptorily refused. 
Official communications on the subject passed back- 
ward and forward between tlie opposing camps, and at 
length the mutual hostility became so intense that the 
Roundheads sent their mortal defiance and drew up in 
order of battle. Ultimately, liowever, better counsels 
prevailed, and order again reigned in Warsaw. 

It was not all recreation at Camp Copeland. We 
had our regular periods for drill, and a part of each 
Monday was occupied in submitting our military 
quarters to general inspection. Meantime, much 
suffering and disease were experienced. From expo- 
sure and from eating poisonous food, and from the 
measles, also, which broke out among us, the deaths 
some days reached as high as seventy-five. This was 
terrible mortality, in view of the comparatively small 
number of persons from whom the victims were 
taken. 

A festive scene was always jDresented when the mail 
was in process of distribution. A soldier can appreci- 
ate better, perhaps, than any other man, the value of 
news from home. When it was understood that the 
mail had arrived, the boys would instantly mass them- 
selves at the appointed place, and as each name was 
called that was found in the address of some letter, the 
liveliest excitement followed. Sometimes, the wel- 
come missive, as it fell from the hands of the official, 
would pass from hand to hand for many yards, over a 
sea of upturned faces, until it reached tlie person to 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 67 

whom it was directed. Soldiers have very vivid im- 
aginations, and on occasions of this kind, when a very 
large letter, as was often the case, was finding its way 
overhead to its destination, it was cheered in its pro- 
gress by a salntation like the following: 

"There comes a blanket from home, and the next 
one I see is a regular feather bed." 

My bunk-mates in this camp were Cassius Fell, G. 
A. Blank and Samuel Smith, of whom mention has 
been made elsewhere. Blank was afterward killed in 
the battle of the Wilderness, and Smith was reported 
missing in another engagement. 

PASSING THE LAST ORDEAL. 

On the 2 2d day of March, I was to appear in pres- 
ence of the pay master, to receive the first month's pay, 
in connection with the first installment of government 
bounty, amounting in all to seventy-three dollars. 
After having passed the first ordeal with the Examiner, 
and the second also with tlie Provost Marshal, I con- 
cluded that this tliird on6 would amount to a form 
simply, and that my entrance into the army was, there- 
fore, an assured fact. 

Just before going in, I had a little conversation with 
an acquaintance by the name of Leach, who had failed 
to pass this final examination, and who was now await- 
ing his discharge in order to be sent home. Having 
been under eighteen years of age, he sought to supply 
this deficiency by resorting to falsehood; but his fic- 
tion had not been matured properly, and on being 



68 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



asked by the Pay Master to give the date of his birth, 
he hesitated and bhmdered, until his falsehood was 
thoroughly exposed, and his rejection was an inevitable 
consequence. The fate of my friend, when reported 
to me, put me npon my guard. In order to win, I 
found it would be necessary to call myself eighteen 
years of age, although the truth would not have sup- 
ported any such declaration; and in anticipation of 
questions similar to those which had ruined the cause 
of young Leach, I had prepared in my own mind a 
series of answers which would save me from hesitation, 
and make one fiction coincide with another. I was 
resolved, however, that if the Pay Master required me 
to make these false statements under oath, I would 
back down as gracefully as I could, and go home 
quietly, without the sin of perjury on my soul. As 
the event shows, I got along with this delicate matter 
much better than I expected. 

On entering the Pay Master's presence, I confess 
that a feeling of trepidation and even alarm made me 
fairly tremble. Were all my efforts to find a place in 
the army of the Republic to be neutralized by this 
last tribunal, before which I was now arraigned? The 
first question was direct and searching: 

" Mr. Sallada, how old are you? " 

" Eighteen," was the brief and cool answer. That 
was enough, and that was all, except that before I left 
I received a large amount of greenbacks; and then I 
went away rejoicing. 

On the 24th of the same month a large number of 



LIFE'S TURNING POINT. 



69 



us convened near the railroad, waiting for the cars to 
transport us to our final destination. While there, a 
man of very gentlemanlj' appearance came on the scene, 
bringing with him a large assortment of watches and 
cheap jewelry. The boys were flush with money, and 
felt rich. The desire to make purchases proved to be 
an epidemic, and in less than a quarter of an hour the 
stock of the cunning trader was largely diminished. 
It was discovered afterward that the watches and 
jewels were a pitiful cheat, and that the boys had been 
duped by an itinerant scoundrel. So much for experi- 
ence. • 




ARMY INCIDENTS. 71 



CHAPTER lY. 



AEMY INCIDENTS. 

Hark, borne upon the Southern breeze 
Are whispers breathed above the trees : 
Be of good cheer, your cause belongs 
To him who can avenge your wrongs; 
Leave it to Him, our Lord. 

Enroute to Washington — Going to Regimknt — Old Rebel 
Camp — Round op Duties — Recreation in Camp — Removal 
AND Promotion — March to Chancellorsville — Battle op 
THE Wilderness — In the Rebel Lines — Honey Adven- 
ture — Charged by Rebel Cavalry. 

ENROUTE TO WASHINGTON. 

The close of the last chapter left us at Camp Cope- 
land on the 24th day of March, 1864, waiting for the 
cars which were to take us to the seat of war. The 
regiment in whicli I had enlisted, and to which I was 
now about to be transferred, was the 57th Pennsylva- 
nia Yeteran Volunteers, 2nd Brigade, 3d Division, 
2nd Army Corps, commanded by Gen'l Hancock. I 
was to become a member of Company B., of this regi- 
ment. So far in my desire to enlist I had triumphed 



72 SILVER SHEAVES. 

over all 02:)position at home; and afterward, I had in 
order to gain my point, encountered grave and severe 
trials, which, if the object to be obtained had been less 
important, would have filled me with discouragement, 
and driven me finally from my purpose. If, on this 
particular day my heart was swelling with a feeling of 
pride, as a result of the personal victories I thus far 
had achieved, I am satisfied that the indulgent reader 
will pardon me. 

In passing through Ilarrisburg, on our way to the 
regiment, we received a patriotic welcome from the 
citizens; and this was tlie case at all the places through 
which we passed. On all hands the loyal people were 
glad to do honor to their country's defenders. At last 
we reached Washington, where we stopped for the 
night at the Soldiers' Eest. Next day we marched 
to the Capitol, wliere I had the happiness to see, for 
tlie first time, many of the dignitaries of our country. 
Among these were President Lincoln, Secretaries 
Stanton, Chase and Seward. Besides these there were 
other high government ofiicials, including senators and 
representatives and foreign ministers. By these, and by 
many of the common citizens, we were greeted with 
demonstrations of respect, and even of enthusiasm. 

Sometime before the war my political sentiments, 
if a youth of twelve or thirteen can be supposed to en- 
tertain such sentiments, were of the Democratic school. 
On this subject, as well as on others, it was natural for 
me to inherit my father's opinions; and such was the 
ease. In 1S5C I was an ardent friend of Buchanan, 



ARMY INCIDENTS. 



T3 



the Democratic candidate for President, although I 
was but ten years of age at the time; but at the close 
of his administration, when, either from cowardice or 
treason, he was yielding up the government and the 
liberties of the people into the hands of their implaca- 
ble foes, my eyes were opened, young as I was, and I 
became as zealous upon the other side as I had for- 
merly been in my Democratic convictions. I had 
learned to love the character of President Lincoln, and 
as I looked upon his homely, though noble counte- 
nance, I was more than ever impressed with the belief 
that, like Washington before him, he was indeed the 
father of his country. 

GOING TO REGIMENT. 

We then marched down to the wharf, got aboard the 
transports, and after a short vo3'age landed in Alexan- 
dria. Here we met Vv'ith a warm reception (or rather 
our greenbacks did) by the female pie and cake ped- 
dlers, who swarmed about us, almost compelling us to 
purchase their eatables. We then marched to the 
Soldier's Rest, and the next day marched to the iVr- 
senal and received our arms and equipments, then re- 
turned to the Soldier's Eest. The next day we marched 
to Convalescent Camp, and from there took the train 
for Brandy Station, Va., and a few hours' march from 
Brandy Station brought us to the regiment. 

It was on the 29th of March that 1 reached my com- 
pany. The first thing in order was the erection of a 
tent, and in this work I was assisted by my compan- 



74 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



ions, Blank and Fell. "VVe labored assiduously for 
three days before the work was completed. We then 
enjoyed a refreshing repose for one night within the 
limits of our new home, anticipating many more enjoy- 
ments of the same kind before leaving the scene of so 
much toil, but on the fourth morning we were ordered 
to vacate our new premises and march with the regi- 
ment to another location. 

OLD REBEL CAMP. 

On the 2d day of April we arrived at an old rebel 
camp, where we took up our quarters. Here we were 
in the very citadel of war, for on all sides of us, stretch- 
ing away for many miles, the tents belonging to the 
Army of the Potomac dotted the earth. Here, within 
this vast area of country, was marshaled the most for- 
midable array of soldiers that had ever marched to 
victory on this continent. It was an inspiring thought 
to me, that this grand body of men had not been called 
to the field to fight for a despotism or to elevate a 
tyrant to power, but to defend the integrity of the old 
Union against the Slaveholder's Rebellion. 

The camp we were now occupying had been aban- 
doned some time before by the retreating rebels. It 
was laid out somewhat imperfectly and irregularly, 
still it answered very well the purpose to which we 
devoted it. The large log chapel connected with it 
was quite a feature, for, besides the religious services 
which were conducted within its walls by our chaplain, 
it was the scene of social and literary entertainments, 



ARMY INCIDENTS. 75 

which helped us to pass away the otherwise monot- 
onous hours. In the absence of the "girls whom we 
had left behind," and in memory of home scenes never 
to be forgotten, we, that is the young soldiers, would 
frequently gather about the door of the chapel after 
the adjournment of meeting, and while some of us 
would personate the absent ladies, the others, as. gal- 
lant beaux, would step up to them and do the honors 
of the occasion, by offering them their arms, to escort 
them home. Sometimes, as it is among scenes away 
from war, the ladies, or those who purported to be 
such, would start back with a contemptuous toss of 
their heads, and repulse every gentlemanly attention. 
It is certain that one of the worst elements of military 
life, is the withdrawal of the common soldier from the 
society of the other sex. It is not strange, therefore, 
that while suffering from this privation, the boys 
should improvise such sj)orts as would most forcibly 
remind them of the associations of home. 

ROUND OF DUTIES. 

The routine of daily duty, during these times, was 
severe, and often very tedious, embracing a whole day. 
To give the uninitiated reader some idea of the grave 
responsibilities which devolve upon the private sol- 
dier, I will here present the daily order of service for 
several days, commencing with April 12th. On that 
day there was corps dress parade, continuing all day. 
On the following day we had corps review in the fore- 
noon, and in the afternoon battalion drill and brigade 



ib SILVER SHEAVES. 

dress parade. It was on that day I saw Generals 
Meade and Hancock, the former being in command 
of the army. N^ext day battalion drill, and the next 
pickets relieved. April 19tli, division review in the 
forenoon, and in the afternoon battalion drill and 
brigade dress jDarade, at which Generals Kearney and 
Ward, and Hays of our regiment, were present. On 
the 15th, some days before this, 10th corps picket 
relieved. April 21st, target shooting, brigade drill, 
and dress parade. April 22d was a great day, for we 
had corps review, witii Generals Grant and Ward to 
inspect us. 

Thus it will be perceived, that the common, every- 
day life of a soldier, is crowded with toil, hardship 
and rigid discipline. Novices, who think that going 
to war is an easy pastime, are indulging a sad mistake, 
as thousands have found it, to their cost. 

RECREATIONS IN CAMP. 

In another place I have spoken of the religious ser- 
vices held in the chapel, which included preaching and 
prayer meetings. We also devoted time here to the 
cultivation of our musical powers; besides these, we 
had lectures, patriotic meetings and concerts, all of 
which tended to lift us above the dead level of military 
existence. 

We had a diversity of sports and recreations; in 
fact, our ingenuity was taxed to devise means for re- 
laxation and enjoyment. We had a large ball, com- 
posed of rubber, from which we extracted much sport 



ARMY INCIDENTS. 



77 



and merriment; with it we played the game of foot- 
ball. It caused a vast amount of fun when some luck- 
less fellow, full of earnestness, would launch forth his 
foot to kick the ball, but before his foot, though it 
went straight for tJie mark, could reach the desired 
object, the ball would be kicked away by feet more 
active than his own and he would measure his length 
on the ground, to the infinite amusement of the spec- 
tators. He found that kicking into vacancy, with all 
his might, was attended with disaster, like the recoil 
of a gun when it is overcharged. It is apt to kick 
back and do injury. The merry laughs which often 
resulted from our rubber ball exercises, were loud 
enough to startle the natives. 

Those of us who were posted in the game of ten-pin. 
and I was among the number, as the reader knows, 
were anxious to invent some substitute for it. At 
length we discovered a plan that would work. A 
destructive implement of war, called a spherical case 
shell, weighing about twelve pounds, would answer 
for the required ball. Dangerous as they were, a 
number of these were employed for the purpose. 
Alleys of the rudest formation were made, and in a 
short time we were up to our eyes in tliis new play, 
drawing from it an immense amount of interest and 
good humor. We knew that a very slight cause 
might explode one of these engines of death with 
which we were playing so carelessly, but lives were 
cheap in the army, and the fear of danger, or sudden 
death, was too seldom in our thoughts, and we went on 



<0 SILVER SHEAVES. 

with the exciting diversioD regardless of consequences. 
On a certain occasion, one of these ten-pin shells, 
filled with elements of destruction, resented the vio- 
lence with which it was handled, by bursting, sud- 
denly and awfull}^, to the horror of all who saw it. A 
quick, sulphurous flame shot from it, mingled with 
that appalling sound which is the signal of its disrup- 
tion; and then flying bullets, and fragments of the 
parting shell, hurtled through the air, carrying dismay 
to every heart. It was singular, indeed, under the cir- 
cumstances, that none of us were injured by this 
unexpected explosion, but it taught us the danger of 
playing with these deadly instruments. It has been 
my opinion since then, that spherical case shells are 
not good ten -pin balls. 

REMOVAL AND PROMOTION. 

On the 26th of April, our regiment vacated the 
rebel camp, which we had occupied as winter Cj[uarters. 
We now pitched our tents in an open field. On the 
29tli I was detailed on the field stafi" as Orderly. I 
also carried the regimental mail, and had the post 
besides of Regimental Marker. The duties of this last 
position required me to stand at one extremity of the 
regiment, holding a marker, or small flag, correspond- 
ing with another flag, held by some other person at 
the other end of the line. By this means the otiicers 
were enabled to keep their line perfect. 



ARMY INCIDENTS. 



jrARCIl TO CHANCELLORSVILLE. 



79 



On the third of May we struck our tents and pre- 
pared to march, and at half-past eleven at night we 
took up our line of march. We marched all that night 
•and the following day, and at night encamped on the 
battle ground of Chancellorsvillc. About nine o'clock 
at night I was sent with explicit orders to have the 
camp fires extinguished immediately, as the enemy 
was reported to be in our vicinity. The next morning 
1 was satisfying my curiosity by examining and com- 
paring the diflerently shaped skulls as they lay strewn 
over the old battle ground of Chancellorsville. 

BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS. 

On the fifth of May, and aliout twelve o'clock, the 
two great armies came in contact with each other, and 
the battle raged furiously. About two o'clock our 
corps, under the command of Major General Winfield 
S. Hancock, was ordered to form and attack M'ith 
Getty's division. At first the attack of Hancock and 
Getty was successful, but Mott's division of Hancock's 
corps was overpowered and gave way, thus forjning a 
temporary breach in our line. Then my brigade, of 
Birney's division, rushed in to repair the broken line, 
commanded by Brigadier General Alexander H. Hayes, 
who was shot dead while leading us. We sustained 
no greater loss that day than Hayes; he was a bold 
and intrepid officer, and Copi^ee, in his Life and Cam- 
paigns of General Grant, says: 



so SILVER SHEAVES. 

" He was frauk, quick and energetic, the model of a 
commander." 

We loved liim because lie not only commanded us, 
but led us. Thus ended the career of our noble com- 
mander. During the afternoon my Colonel, P. Sides, 
was wounded in the arm. He requested me to go with 
him to the general hospital and take care of him. I 
declined, for I did not want to go; I wanted to stay 
with my regiment. Early in the afternoon my bunk 
mate, G. A. Blank, was killed, and as I thought of the 
lifeless form who, in the vigor and prime of youth 
gave his life for his country, I thought of the many 
happy hours we had spent together in the school-room 
and in each other's society at home. 

One more buried 

Beneath the sod, 
One more standing 

Before his God. 

We should not weep 

That he has gone; 
With us 'tis night, 

With him 'tis mom! 

Night coming on closed the carnage of the day. 
The next morning the battle was renewed with fresh 
vigor. Volley after volley, and cheer after cheer rent 
the air as the surging tide of war swept on. 

But, reader, I do not propose waiting a history or 
giving minutely the details of the battles through 



ARMY INCIDENTS. 81 

which I passed, only presenting the moet illustrative 
incidents that I witnessed. 

IN THE REBEL LINES. 

On the eighth day of May, while the regiment was 
on a forced inarch, I went forth in pursuit of water, 
the want of which was appressing me. Being igno- 
rant in regard to the face of the country, I had not 
gone far before the discovery was made that I was 
within the rebel lines. This was a new experience, 
and although my love of adventure was in those days 
a dominant feeling, I cannot say that this one was 
altogether delightful. As secretly and as speedily as 
possible I retired to cover in a swamp near by, on 
which grew a dense thicket of laurel. While concealed 
here, I was surprised by the presence of another Union 
soldier, who had for the same reason that influenced 
rae, sought refuge in this hiding place. Though we 
were utter strangers, it did not take us long after the 
first surj)rise was over to become thoroughly acquainted 
with each other. The bond now between us was very 
strong, for we were companions in a common peril, 
and what was safety to one promised to be the salva- 
tion of the other. 

The afternoon was well advanced when we found 
ourselves involved in this fearful danger. We freely 
consulted together in reference to plans of escape. 
On all sides we were environed by active and watch- 
ful enemies, and any attempt to leave our retreat by 
daylight would be disastrous. My companion seemed 

" 6 



82 SILVER SHEAVES. 

to be very hopeless in regard to our clmnees of escape, 
and intimated that it would be the most prudent course 
to surrender, and thus throw ourselves upon tlie mercy 
of our foes. I could not take this view of the subject, 
for the war had been in progress long enough to de- 
velop the natural brutality of the Confederates toward 
their prisoners. I had heard horrible things concern- 
ing the prison hells of the South, and I Avas in no 
hurry to transfer myself to any of these places. If I 
went there, it would not be a voluntary act. 

My plan was to wait in our place of concealment 
until after nightfall, when, as the sky would be moon- 
less, we would emerge from the thicket, and proceed 
on our hands and knees between the vidette posts of 
the enemy, myself in advance all the while. If halted 
on our perilous way by the sharp question of '* who 
goes there?" we would instantly rise and respond 
" friends in gray." 

We would then accept whatever chances were left 
to us in so dread an alternative. My friend had many 
misgivings as to the feasibility of this plan, but finally 
acceded to it, hoping for the best. 

While we were yet consulting in low tones so as 
not to be overheard by any casual listener, a rebel 
general and his staff were seen riding past, only a few 
hundred yards away. A sharp shooter from our posi- 
tion could easily have taken him down, but we had no 
arms, and in any case such a course would have been 
rash and suicidal. To say that we were startled at this 
unexpected sight would hardly be an exaggeration. 



ARMY INCIDENTS. S3 

Mj heart smote with violence as I crouched closely 
among the bushes, glaring out like an animal at bay 
upon the passing cavalcade. Having reached a point 
a little distance beyond us they halted for a moment, 
and then one of the officer's aids was seen to separate 
from the main body, and move oft* on a diiferent road 
from that on which the officer and those with him 
were proceeding. When this danger was passed and 
our minds were liberated from the strain to which 
they had been subjected, we resumed our consulta- 
tions, and having finished it waited for the protecting 
mantle of darkness to cover us. 

It was a splendid night for an adventure like ours, 
where the utmost secresy was required. There was 
neither moon nor stars, for the sky was draped in 
mourning. Masses of clouds swept over it's face, giv- 
ing the color of blackness to all earthly objects. 

Emerging from our place of concealment, we cau- 
tiously took our way in the darkness, never pausing 
until we supposed ourselves in the immediate vicinity 
of the rebel picket lines. I was in the lead, and re- 
tained this perilous position to the last. Before drop- 
ping to our hands and knees I suggested to my friend 
the vital importance of guarding all our movements 
with scrupulous care. An awkward stumble or the 
mere breaking of a dry stick under our weight would 
probably prove fatal to our enterprise, bringing swift 
punishment down upon our heads. JSTow came the 
thrilling part of our adventure. On we groped in thick 
darkness, our hearts palpitating the while with sus- 



84 SILVER SHEAVES. 

pense and excitement. I do not know how far we had 
progressed on this uncertain and dangerous course 
when the very thing happened to me against which I 
had an hour before impressibly warned my companion; 
by some dreadful mischance for which I cannot account 
my hand pressed a decayed stick with such force as tc 
produce a quick, crackling sound loud enough to be 
heard some distance away, and in the same instant the 
report of a gun fell upon my ear with sudden and 
appalling distinctness. We stopped sliort, and the 
perspiration stood in clammy drops on my forehead. 
It was a moment of real agony, for I was certain that 
the accidental noise I had caused had betrayed us to 
the enemy. I was almost in the act of springing to 
my feet to answer the summons of the picket in the 
best way of which I was capable, when another report 
off to the left held me in breathless suspense. Soon 
a recurrence of shots, some of which were off to the 
right and others to the left, proved to me that the 
Union and rebel pickets were engaged in firing at each 
other. "What a blessed relief we realized when the 
truth flashed upon us. The reports from the right 
were, as I naturally inferred, from the Union lines, 
and those on the left were from the rebels. This very 
circumstance made me comprehend for the first time 
our true position in reference to both armies. Instead 
of approaching the rebel pickets as we believed, we 
had been groping in the rear of their lines, and moving 
parallel with them. Thus corrected in our course we 
turned sharply off to the left, and moved off into the 



ARMY INCIDENTS. 85 

ilarkness, still groping on hands and knees. All at 
once the dead silence which reigned around was broken 
by a sharp click near at hand, followed by the excla- 
mation: '"Halt! Who goes there?" 

Believing that I was still in the confederate lines, 
I sprang to my feet, intending to say: "Friends in 
Gray." I did not, however, say what I had intended ; 
but in the confusion and terror of the moment, aided 
perhaps, by my spo*ntaneous loyalty, I exclaimed: 
"Friends in true blue!" 

The deed was done, and I could not now recall it ; 
but I had done without knowing it, the best thing 
that could have been done under the circumstances. I 
was not long in perceiving, dark as it was, that we had 
been halted by Union pickets; and it only remained 
for us to identify ourselves to escape from any suspi- 
cions that might attach to a couple of midnight adven- 
turers. The corporal of the guard was sent for, by 
whom we were escorted to headquarters, where we gave 
satisfactory evidence of our identity, and were released. 

I afterward learned that the danger we were in of 
being shot that night by Union pickets was greatly in- 
creased by the fact that the strictest orders had been 
given them to shoot down, remorselessly, ev^ery moving 
object in their vicinity. Some little time before a 
a vigorous rebel, ensconced in a hog skin, had ap- 
j^roached our line, on all fours, in the obscurity of the 
night. Having been taken for a respectable swine, 
engaged in his professional pursuits, he was permitted 
to come within a few feet of the picket, and then hurl- 



86 SILVER SHEAVES, 

ing himself with all his power on that astonished gen- 
tleman, he succeeded in disarming and holding him 
until a number of confederates, secreted in the back- 
ground came up, on being signaled, and carried off 
their victim in triumph. On that night half a dozen 
or more of our pickets were relieved in this original 
way before the ingenious trick was discovered. It was 
this circumstance which induced the officer eommand- 
ino- to issue the strict order to tvhicli I have referred. 

HONEY ADVENTURE. 

From headquarters I went to the Division Hospital 
near by. I had not as yet rejoined my regiment. 
Near the hospital I fell in with three others who, like 
myself, were in immediate need of rations. We con- 
cluded to start out together on a foraging expedition. 
iSTot long after starting we came to a rebel farm house, 
which was, at the time, occupied by an old man and 
woman, and three girls. 

As was customary in such cases, we asked for some- 
thing to eat. The answer was that the farmer's stores 
had just been cleaned out by the Union cavalry ; and 
as a consequence, thei'e was nothing to bestow upon 
us, for love or money. • Observing a number of bee- 
hives near the house, and believing that the possession 
of these hives afforded the only chance of relief to our 
empty stomaches, one of the boys, a little more reck- 
less, perhaps, than the others, snatched up one of the 
desired articles, and ran away with it at the top of his 
speed. Noting this maneuver, the rest of the foraging 



ARMY INCIDENTS. 



87 



party, myself along with them, went in swift pursuit; 
and overtaking our predatory friend in advance, assis- 
ted him on his way by relieving him of his load. 

Alternately carrying the rich prize we finally reached 
a place of safety, when, pausing in our rapid flight we 
began to help ourselves to large quantities of the 
hone3^ Our stomaches being empty, the sacharine 
substance soon began to develop symptoms of terrible 
nausea. Perhaps, in all the army of the Potomac, 
there was not on that day, a sicker set of fellows than 
ourselves. If we had taken doses of lobelia, or tartar 
emetic, the result would not have been more trying to 
our nerves. We lay around for a while groaning in 
concert, anathematizing the rebel honey until the at- 
mosphere was fairly blue with our maledictions. At 
length, forlorn and sick and uttering groans by the 
way, which were audible for some distance, we stag- 
gered back, in a state of complete demoralization, to 
the Division Hospital, where our systems were righted 
up by medical assistance. On this excursion we dis- 
covered that honey is not the best thing in the world 
to alleviate the pangs of hunger. 

CHARGED BY REBEL CAVALRY. 

Xext morning, after my wasted energies had been 
recruited by medicine, but not by food, I started with 
another party of foragers in search, again, of provis- 
ions. We were four in number, two of the company 
being brothers. Sometime after we left camp a farm- 
house attracted our attention, and to it we proceeded 



88 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



without hesitation. Arriving there we found that the 
occupants were two elderly people, of opposite sexes, 
and two girls, possibly their daughters. Before reach- 
ing the house I noticed that it stood in an open sj)ace 
skirted on two sides by timber, one body of which 
stood in the direction of the hospital from which we 
had come. 

Describing our situation and enquiring, as usual, 
for something to eat, the tenants of the house answered 
as we had been answered the day before. The inevita- 
ble cavalry had been scouring the country carrying 
devastation into every hamlet and neiofhborhood. 
"While some of us were conversing with the farmer, 
one of the brothers, who had been prowling around 
the house with an eye to the main chance, had suc- 
ceeded in capturing a chicken, of the rooster variety, 
which he brought to us in great triumph. While 
holding the prize before us, the family became very 
much depressed on account of the liberty that had 
been taken with their poultry, and to make the occa- 
sion more interesting the girls went off into a paroxysm 
of tears, begging us to respect the rights of property, 
and show mercy to them in their destitute condition. 
Hungry as I was my pity was at once excited; and one 
of the brothers joined with me in the desire to leave 
the poor people unmolested. The captor of the chicken 
however, was obdurate, expressing his determination 
to carry ofi' the spoils, no matter who might oppose 
him. 

A fierce quarrel ensued between the brothers, fbl- 



ARMY INCIDENTS. 89' 

lowed by a pugilistic encounter of no insignificant 
character. In the confusion of this unexpected fight 
the captive rooster regained his freedom, and hopped 
away crowing with delight. Ilis great joy was shared 
by the girls, who, seeing the turn wliich aft'airs were 
taking, dried their pretty eyes at once and clapped 
their hands in exultation. Up to this point 1 had 
commiserated the situation of the family, ^^refering to 
go hungry mj^self rather than take away property from 
them which they so much needed; but being incensed 
at their ungracious joy on account of the liberation of 
the chicken, my pity gave way to disgust, and 1 joined 
my comrades in pursuing the fugitive rooster. 

Eager in the chase, I was just turning a corner of 
the house, when on looking up for a moment I saw a 
party of rebel cavalry bearing down with speed toward 
us, and only a few hundred yards from us. I suddenly 
forgot all about the chicken, and turned to flee. I have 
already stated that there was a skirt of forest on that 
side of the house which looked toward the hospital, 
and as the coast was clear in that direction I made for 
cover with as much agility, perhaps, as I had ever 
before exhibited in my life. In the excitement I M'as 
separated from my companions, and never saw them 
again. I presume that they "escaped as well as myself, 
but of this I cannot speak positively. 

Down came the flying troop, yelling with the full 
volume of their lungs; and at the exact moment in 
which I plunged into a friendly thicket of under- 
grow^th my enemies were but a few yards behind. This 



90 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



was one of the narrowest escapes of ray military exper- 
ience; but I only escaped from one difficulty to en- 
counter another, for the brambles in this friendly 
thicket tore my clothes and mutilated my flesh .until 
I was hardly recognizable by my nearest friend. This 
circumstance, however, proved my security from the 
enemy, for mounted as they were they could not follow 
me on my thorny pilgrimage. Ultimately, when I 
found my regiment, I had suffered for two days with- 
out anything to eat except the honey to which I have 
referred and two ears of corn which happened to fall 
in my way. 




THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 91 



OHAPTEE V. 



THRILLING CAMPAIGJ^. 

Results of six day's Fighting — Chakge at Spotsylvania — 
Against the Weldon Railroad — Temporary rest — Inci- 
dents AMUSING AND OTHERWISE — DESCRIPTION OP THE 
COUNTRY — ReCONNOISANCE — SPRINGING OF THE MINE — BrAN- 

DY Melon — Both Eyes Torn Out — Captured, Robbed 
AND Recaptured. 

KESULTS OF SIX DAY's FIGHTING. 

May 11. — Since the battle of the Wilderness, Maj 5, 
to this date we have had six days of very hard fighting; 
have lost in that time abont 35,000 men; the enemy's 
loss must have been greater than ours ; we have taken 
over 5,000 prisoners and forty cannon, while they have 
taken but few men from us; the result to this time 
was much in our favor. It was upon this da}' that 
Gen. Grant sent that memorable dispatch to the Secre- 
tary of War, "I propose to tight it out on this line, if it 
takes all summer." 

CHARGE AT SPOTSYLVANIA. 

On the morning of the 12th, that memorable day, 
our corps formed in two lines; we moved silently and 



92 SILVER SHEAVES. 

unseen toward the enemy's works, until we crossed the 
rugged space that intervened. Then with terrific 
charge and volleys of cheers we reached the enemy's 
works, surprised and captured Edward Johnston and 
his entire division; also two other brigades under 
the command of Gen. Geo. II. Stuart. This was the 
most successful charge on record ; we captured between 
three and four thousand prisoners and about thirty 
guns, "When Hancock heard that these generals were 
captured, he ordered them to be brought before him. 
Offering his hand to Johnson that general w^as so af- 
fected that he said he preferred death to captivity. 
He then oifered his hand to Stuart, with whom he 
had been previously acquainted, and said: ''How are 
you Stuart?" to which that officer impertinently re- 
plied: "I am General Stuart of the Confederate army 
and under present circumstances decline to take your 
hand." Hancock cooly replied: "And under any 
other circumstances, General, I should not have of- 
fered it." Hancock's pencil dispatch to Grant, within 
an hour after the column of attack had been formed, 
was these words: "I have captured from thirty to forty 
guns; I have finished Johnson, and am now going into 
Early." At noon it began to rain, but there was not 
an entire lull in the battle; the fifth corps only leav- 
ing a weak line of skirmishers, was moved to the left, 
as it was found that the enemy was continually mas- 
sing his troops in that direction. JSTeither general 
was deceived for a moment, and our attempts to 
turn the enemy's right, at once met by the rebel com- 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 93 

mander, was not successful. Charges and counter- 
charges were made until night Ml, and the carnage 
was terrific. AVhen at length night put an end to it 
the armies had fought for fourteen hours, and the losses 
on either side numbered about ten thousand. 

To give the reader some idea of how our time was 
occupied during this memorable campaign, I will 
here introduce a few weeks as a sample from my daily 
journal. 

May 13. — We are driving rebels all day, but cannot 
get in gun shot of them ; they move off lively. 

May 14. — It rained to-day; we still kept following 
the enemy; had a small fight in the evening; rations 
run short. 

May 15. — Still raining; our troops are still follow- 
ing up the enemy; we are very scarce of rations. 

May 16. — Not much fighting to-day; in afternoon 
some pretty sharp firing. 

May 17. — Quiet on the battle field, except firing on 
the picket line; think the Jolmies are leaving. 

May 18. — In the morning there were two heavy 
charges; our artillery kejDt up fire; to-night we lay 
down to sleep; in half an hour we were aroused and 
marched three miles, then lay down again, but were 
soon roused up. 

May 19. — To-day we rested; pitched our tents; 
were all very tired ; in the evening the enemy got in 
our rear and began to capture our train, but we soon 
drove them back. 

May 20. — This morning we took two thousand pris- 



M SILVER SHEAVES. 

oners; marched three miles, then halted until tweh^e 
o'clock that night; marched rest of night; read three 
chapters in my Bible. 

May 21.^Marched all day; crossed the Matapony 
river; passed through Millford station and Bowling 
Green; the troops are very tired. 

May 22. — Marched two miles through woods, then 
built breastworks and stayed all night; got a good 
rest; it is very warm. 

May 23. — Crossed the ISTorth Anna river; marched 
hard all day; the rebs are shelling us, but we hold 
them back; there was very hard fighting; we routed 
the enemy. 

May 24. — Terrific cannonading, and sharp skirmish- 
ing kej)t up all day; our division crossed the ^bTorth 
Anna towards evening; rained very hard all night. 

May 25. — Moved to-night a little; no fighting except 
the pickets kept up sharp fire; another hard rain; we 
are out of provisions ; the boys are all hungry. 

May 26. — Ttained all forenoon; we lay behind 
breastworks all day; at night moved to the outside 
line of works and lay three hours, then marched the 
remainder of the night; re-crossed the North Anna. 

May. 27. — Started at noon; marched until two 
o'clock next morning, then lay down and rested until 
daylight. 

May 28. — Marched until noon; stopped an hour for 
dinner, then marched on; crossed the Pamunky Kiver 
on pontoon bridges; after another march of two and 
one-half miles pitched tents for the night; very tired. 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 95 

May 29. — Moved out about noon; marched until 
three o'clock; stopped and built breastworks until 
evening; soon as had those completed moved on and 
built others ; we are now within ten miles of Richmond. 

May 30. — In the morning built breastworks; heavy 
cannonading in the afternoon; the enemy made an 
unsuccessful charge on our left. 

May 31. — There has been heavy cannonading all 
day, and sharp firing between the skirmish lines; 
about nine o'clock in the evening we moved three- 
quarters of a mile and built breastworks, then marched 
to the front and stayed until two o'clock in morning; 
then back to fourth line of breastworks; stayed until 
morning. 

June 1. — Moved out from the breastworks to the 
front; stayed until ten o'clock; marched remainder 
of night; skirmish lines kept up heavy fire; enemy 
charged on us but we drove them back. 

June 2. — Marched until eleven o'clock; stopped 
until two o'clock, then marched to front and pitche<:l 
tents; stayed all night; rained afternoon and all night. 

June 3. — Moving; stopped one hour for breakfast; 
marched until eleven o'clock ; stopped until four o'clock, 
then marched to front; fifth co)'ps made a charge and 
repulsed the enemy. 

June 4. — Were in a woods near Gains' Hill all day; 
had a good rest; evening marched to front; rained 
again; the rebs shelled us. 

June 5. — Laid behind the breastworks near Median- 



96 SILVER SHEAVES, 

icsville until five o'clock, then moved out by left flank 
on front line in sight of the Johnies. 

KILLED BY A SHELL. 

One day while lying in my tent I was aroused by a 
terrible noise near by. I hastened to the spot from 
whence the noise came, and there learned that a shell 
had exploded, killing one young man and wounding 
three others. It seems one of the boj's had found 
a small percussion cap shell ; five or six of them were 
examining it when one of them accidently let it fall; 
striking on the cap it exploded with the above fatal re- 
sult. The comrade that was killed belonged to a regi- 
ment in the fifth corps; his time of service having ex- 
pired he had come to take leave of his friends in our 
division before going home. This shocking afiair 
seemed doubly sad as after having endured the hard- 
ships and perils of a three years term of service, and 
being filled with joyous expectations of soon meeting 
with the loved ones at home, to be thus suddenly cut 
down when he had least reason to expect. "But such 
is war." 

June 6. — Lay behind front line of breast works to- 
day at Beaver Dam; some of the boys traded coftee to 
the gray coats for tobacco. 

June 7. — Still at same place getting rested; drew 
four days rations. 

June 8. — To-day lay still; everything quiet until 
three o'clock; the batteries fired sharp for a while; 
drew beans and apples. 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 97 

At a certain point on our picket line several of onr 
pickets were killed or murdered in a very mysterious 
manner. These casualties always occurred either in 
the evening or morning twilight. At length two pick- 
ets instead of one were stationed at the place, to dis- 
cover, if possible, the cause of the trouble. The result 
was that one of these unfortunate men was killed and 
the other w^ounded, yet no discovery of the mysterious 
and dastardly perpetrator was made. At last one of 
our captains, with half a dozen men, volunteered to 
hunt down the desperado, who had made that part 
of our picket line a terror. The party concealed 
themselves in the underbrush; and very early in the 
morning an explosion was heard, coming from the 
forks of a large elm tree, which stood in front of a 
house, about a hundred yards away from the place 
where our men were concealed. The captain and his 
men rushed to the tree, when on looking up, they saw 
an old gray-haired civilian, of the Confederate school, 
seated on a board which had been ingeniously placed 
at the forks of the elm, so that in his murderous work 
he had not been perceived by the pickets. His wife 
came out from the house and begged that her husband 
might be permitted to come down in safety. The only 
response of the captain to this entreaty was a peremp- 
tory order to his men to lire. They did so, and the 
body of the old man, perforated by balls, shot through 
flie air to the earth! 

" There is your husband !" said the captain, and he 
and his men retired from the melancholy scene. 
7 



98 SILVER SHEAVES. 

June 9. — Still at the same place; very lieavj cannon- 
ading in afternoon for an hour or two; I was detailed 
as doctor's orderly. 

June 10. — To-day everything qnie»t along line; 
twelve confederates came in to-day, they don't like 
fighting. 

June 11. — Resting; all quiet along line; drew five 
days rations. 

June 12.— Last night at nine o'clock packed uj); 
marched all night with four days rations. 

June 13. — Marched hard all day; staid all night 
in cornfield within two miles of James River; built 
breastworks. 

June 14. — To-day marched two miles to river; 
crossed, marched up river one and one half miles; 
stopped for night. 

June 15. — At eleven o'clock this morning started; 
marched until two; stopped one hour for dinner; 
marched until night; stopped for supper, then marched 
all night. 

June 16. — About twelve o'clock arrived in rifle pits 
which some colored troops had taken ; staid until four 
o'clock, when we advanced and opened a fight which 
lasted all night; we w^ere relieved at 11 o'clock. 

June 17. — At twelve o'clock we marched to front 
line of breastworks; we strengthened the works and 
had a sharp skirmish. Enemy lay fifty rods from us. 

June 18. — Made a charge before Petersburgh, within 
one and one half miles of city; we were relieved at four 
o'clock; sharp skirmishing. 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 99 

June 19. — This morn we lay behind third line of 
works; the sharp shooters pick the men off as fast as 
they stick up their heads; we have four mortars here, 
and they do good work. 

June 20. — To-da}'- we are on frontline; sharp skirm- 
ishing all day; were relieved by ninth corps; after 
dark moved to rear and staid all night. 

AGAINST THE WELDON K. E. 

June 21. — This morning our corps 'and the sixth 
moved out rapidly across the Norfolk R. R., and then 
accross the Jerusalem plank road to where the fifth 
corps was already extended; the great objects of this 
movement was to extend our lines to the Weldon R. 
R.; one source of immediate supply both to Peters- 
burgh and Richmond, but the enemy were as anxious 
to hold it as we were to capture it, and met our troops 
in such forces at Davis' Farm, between the two roads, 
as to compel them to retire for a short distance. 

On Wednesday, June 22, this movement against the 
Weldon road was resumed by the second and sixth 
corps, the sixth on the left ; but by some misunderstand- 
ing the corps waiting for each other, tlie attack was too 
long delayed; and when moving independently of each 
other a gap M^as formed between the sixth, which had 
not completed its line, and Barlows division of the sec- 
ond. Into this that skillful General, A. P. Hill, threw a 
division of his corps, rolling up Barlows division, which 
exposed our (Birney's) now Motts. Our regiment had 
just completed their breastworks and were sitting down 



100 SILVER SHEAVES. 

to rest when Joe Smitli cried out: "Ob, God, there comes 
the rebs." I arose up to look around, and saw the boys 
all running. I supposed they were going to get their 
arms, which had been stacked a little distance in our 
rear. The bullets were flying so fast that I crowded 
up close to the breastworks ; on looking around again , 
I found the boys had all left and the rebels coming up 
in our rear, and mowing the thick underbrush with 
their bullets like they would with a scythe, and yelling 
like demons to us to surrender. My first thought was 
I would have to surrender, the second thought flashed 
upon me never; acting upon this second thought, I 
picked up my budget and struck for the timber, which 
was very swampy. I came to a brush fence having a 
small pathway on either side of which stood a large 
tree; just as 1 passed the tree a rebel came running 
along the opposite side of the fence, and came around 
the tree from one side just as I came from the other. 
We were both surprised, he immediately called to me 
to surrender, but being inconsiderable of a hurry I did 
not stop. The Johny, vexed at my lack of courtesy, 
stuck out his gun and fired at me without taking aim^ 
being so very close I suppose he thought it would be 
impossible to miss me, but he did ; at every step I ex- 
spected to be shot. This was the only time I relin- 
quished the idea I had always entertained of returning 
home safe; but in a few minutes I reached the second 
line of our works, which we were able to maintain. 
This was a terrible adventure, and the closest call I 
had yet had. 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 101 



June 23. — Were relieved this morning from the 
front; we lay still until night; heavy firing on onr 
right; we took the railroad. 

June 24.— -Were relieved in morning; moved to 
rear and put np breastworks; lay here all day and 
alight expecting to move. 

June 25. — Still laying at same place; very warm 
and dnsty; all quiet on picket line; hear some cannon- 
ading- on onr riijht. 

June 26. — Still at same place, very hot; hot enough 
to fry eggs on a stone in the sun, but we havn't got 
the eggs; was to church, heard a good sermon. 

June 27. — Raining; heavy cannonading to our right; 
gun boats playing with the enemy. 

June 28. — Moved out front, put up strong breast- 
works; our's (the second) is the flanking corps, the 
switch engine for the Potomac army. 

June 30. — Very hot; policeing around tents, wash- 
ing and sleeping; drew soft bread to-day. 

July 2. — Inspection to-day; got fresh tomatoes and 
onions from sanitary commission. 

NEUTKAL CORN FIELD. 

^There was a corn field between the Union and Con- 
federate lines at a certain point before Petersburg!!, a 
little to the left of Cemetery Hill. The opposing 
pickets of the two great confronting armies would in 
spite of all occasionally creep into that field for a 
friendly chat or for a game of cards, or would swap 
j)apers for papers, tobacco for coffee, or jack knives, 



102 SILVER SHEAVES. 

hard tack or sugar for corn cuke. Two of them were 
playing a game of cards one da}^ with Abe Liucohi 
and Jeff Davis as imaginary stakes; the Lincohiite 
lost. " There," says the winner, " Old Abe belongs to 
me." ""Well, I'll send him over by the Petersburgh 
Express." The express was a veiy large mortar on a 
car built expressly for it, and every morning and eve- 
ning it would run up around the bluff near the fort 
line on the City Point P. P., and throw a monstrous 
shell into Petersburg. 

TEMPORAKY REST. 

It was now manifest that after two months of con- 
tinuous fighting of the most desperate character, and 
now that we had readied a point where the siege of a 
stronghold must take the place of battles in the field, 
there must be a brief period for rest and re-organiza- 
tion. Our losses had been between sixty and seventy 
thousand, and although corresponding re-enforcement& 
had reached Grant, the losses could not be repaired by 
the raw troops sent to the army. We had lost six 
hundred officers killed, more than two thousand 
wounded, and three hundred and fifty missing; those 
could not be immediately replaced. Thus far I par- 
ticipated in all the fighting and marching to which 
my command was subjected; made many narrow 
escapes of my life; was never excused from duty, but 
always enjoyed that invaluable blessing, good health,, 
and that too without thinking God preserved my life; 
depreciating His loving kindness, and resisting the 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 103 

advice of a fond mother, for her letters were always 
sermons to me. I read my Bible because I promised 
my mother at parting that I would. But I never 
allowed my mind to inhale the sweet passages of that 
precious book. My mind was absorbed in the pleas- 
ures and excitements of the world, indulging in what 
leads the mind from Christian piety. But I was in 
the army with all kinds of people, and being very 
young, was more easily influenced to indulge in wicked 
habits. I will relate a little incident that happened 
under my observation: One Sabbath while strolling 
through the difierent regiments, my attention was 
attracted by a concourse of soldiers quietly seated on 
the ground. In their midst stood a chaplain expound- 
ing the word of God. Toward evening as I was re- 
turning to my regiment I passed the colonel's quarters; 
attracted by a little confusion, I glanced iii; there in 
the middle of the tent sat three officers and the chap- 
lain whom I had heard preaching in the forenoon, all 
busily engaged at card playing, and a roll of money 
lying on the table in their midst. 

Sunday, July 3. — Drew full suit of clothes; ninth 
corps kept up firing their mortars. 

MoxDAY, July 4. — To-day visited the fifth and ninth 
corps; while passing a regiment of fifth corps issuing 
rations, my attention was attracted to a cracker l)ox 
of different size, shape and color than any I had ever 
seen; it had been captured from the rebs, and bore 
this peculiar inscription, " B. C. 603," the figures being 
beneath the initials. While we were speculating upon 



104 SILVER SHEAVES. 

tlie probable meaning of this peculiar brand, various 
interpretations were surmised, but all rejected, until 
one individual wlio was then in the act of attempting 
to masticate a piece, declared it was plain enough, 
"couldn't be misunderstood." "Why, how so?" was 
the query. " Oh," he replied, " that is the date when 
the crackers were made — six hundred and three years 
before Christ." (603 B. C.) A general roar followed, 
and we j>i*oclaimed him the hero of the occasion. 
"While passing the ninth corps, in front of which the 
opposing lines were in full view and hailing distance 
of each other, a Confederate jumped upon the breast- 
works, flourished a large flask of whisky, and cried out, 
" Yanks, come over and drink tlie Fourth of July with 
us." Five others made their appearance, one having 
a violin. An amusing little dance was indulged in 
for our benefit. A Confed. who was concealed in a 
little dug out under the top of a fallen tree was very 
annoying and destructive to our picket line. " G," an 
experienced artilleryman, said he could silence that 
fellow, and placing a little mortar into position, on a 
second trial dropped a shell into the dug out from 
which so manj^ fatal bullets had come; there was no 
more trouble from that point. Every evening the 
mortars opened up fire, and continued for several hours 
after dark; they presented the grandest specimen of 
fireworks I ever witnessed; and for hours I sat and 
watched the shells from opposing batteries with their 
long tails of fire passing to and fro, some bursting 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 105 

low and others high in the air; this artillery practice 
was kept np until after the springing of the mine. 

July 11. — Tore down breastworks and packed np 
to move. 

July 14, — Laying within ten miles of City Point, 
Va.; in evening went out on fatigue; worked hard all 
night tearing down Johnie rifle-pits; drew whisky. 

July 15. — Regiment went out on fatigue, tearing 
down captured forts. 

July 17. — Moved camp fifty rods; put up good 
quarters. A lot of brush lying around camp took fire, 
in which some shells were deposited; the bursting 
of the same gave us a scare and made it lively for us 
a while. 

July 23. — Moved camp; now on the flank; occupy 
rifle-pits joining the fort. 

DESCRIPTION OF THE COUNTRY. 

By this time we had passed through a great many 
large and beautiful plantations, but the country looked 
desolate; fences were down, and fields of corn and 
wheat, mostly ready for the sickle, were destroyed by 
the armies. In some places, fine and costly buildings 
were defaced and demolished, and nothing but a row 
of negro huts remained to mark the place that had 
once been the home of wealth and luxuiy. I say 
some were thus, while others remained in their gran- 
deur. The inhabitants consisted of old men, women 
and children, for the young and middle-aged men were 
in the Confederate army, fighting to destroy that gov- 



106 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



ernment to wliicli thej now call for protection. I 
conversed freely with a great many on tlie condition 
of the country ; most of them expressed an anxious de- 
sire for jjeace, but the F. F. Y.'s were inimical. Rich 
in this world's goods, they were, generally speaking, 
haughty and overbearing; while the poorer class, or 
" clay-eaters," were very ignorant and used very un- 
couth language. A lady of Ohio, in describing a 
southern clay-eater, says " they don't look like a fresh 
dead man, but like one that had been dead a long 
time." It seems they do not appreciate the free school 
s^^stem, for I saw but two school houses during the 
whole time I was in the army. Why is it that they 
do not appreciate the value of free schools, or do they 
not know the value of education ? Think of a race of 
human beings in this enlightened country, and having 
it in their power, dej^reciating that which is to their 
interest and the first essential duty of life. 

RECONNOISANCE. 

On the 26th of July we took up the line of march; 
crossed the Appomattox river at Point of Rocks. It 
will be remembered this is the place where Poca- 
hontas rescued Captain John Smith, which the reader 
has no doubt found recorded in the history of the Uni- 
ted States. The residents showed me a tree under 
which they said the scene had transpired. It was a 
large tree, probably four feet in diameter, with large 
massive boughs. It stands alone, and is on a grad- 
ual ascent from the river. Beneath its boughs is a 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 107 

spring of pure crystal water. The river banks at the 
place are lined with large brown rocks, which makes 
the place picturesque. We crossed the James at Deep 
Bottom and reconnoitered in the direction of Fort 
Hamilton, and on the night of the 28th our division 
recrossed the river, and on a forced march reached 
Petersburg. We took the front line of works. 

SPRINGING OF THE MINE. 

On the 25th of June, Col. Pleasants took his regiment, 
forty-eighth Pa., and commenced to dig a tunnel under 
the enemy's fort ; the tunnel was some twenty feet be- 
low the surface, and at its extremity under the fort 
there were two lateral galleries, one extending thirty- 
eight feet to the right, the other thirty-seven feet to the 
left under the enemy's redoubt; in these galleries were 
eight magazines of powder placed, about four tons in 
all, on the morning of July 30. At half past three the 
fuse was lit; owing to some defect it did not go off as 
expected, when Lieutenant Jacob Douty and Ser- 
geant Harry Reese, two brave men volunteered to go 
in and religlit the fuse. Again, at ten minutes before 
five, the insidious flame travels to its destined goal. A 
quiver, which becomes an earthquake — tremor — and 
then with a tremendous burst a conical mountain rises 
in the air streaked and seamed with liglitning flashes. 
The vast mass is momentarily poised, and as it thus 
hangs in air discloses timber planking, earth, bodies 
and limbs of men, and even one or two of the sixteen 
guns in the work. It is known that the work was oc- 



108 SILVER SHEAVES. 

cupied bj" portions of. the seventeenth and eighteenth 
and twenty-second South Carolina regiments, under 
Col. Fleming. Except the guard the garrison was 
asleep. One instant of wakening and then the crush- 
ing death. And then from every gun, great and small, 
that can he brought to bear, we pour in such thunder- 
storms of artillery as have rarely been witnessed or 
heard an America. 

BKANDT MELON. 

\ Our suttlers were not allowed to keep or sell intox- 
icating liquors to the boys. But they wonld resort to 
different methods to evade the law and accommodate 
us. At one time they sold small cans labelled "Cling- 
stone Peaches" for $1.25 each — they contained two or 
three peaches and the rest brandy. When detected in 
this they would plug water melons and fill them with 
brandy and sell the melon out at from 25 to 50 cents a 
slice. Once we treated an old German to a slice 
telling him it was a new variety of melon. So delighted 
was he with the flavor of it that he at once purchased 
of the sutler four seeds, paying $2 each for them, say- 
ing: "I'ch will sent does seets hame, und ven does 
vor's ish ober I'ch vill moch von forchune owet or dem 
vatermelons." 

Another German who came out with the hundred 
day men, near the close of the war, and who had not 
seen any fighting, was determined to take two small 
cannon balls home with him, saying he wanted dem for 
his poys, und to remember de vor py." 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 109 

BOTH EYES TORN OUT CAPTURED, ROBBED AND RECAP- 
TURED. 

On the 12tli of August we again took up our line of 
inarch and it was rumored that we were going to 
Maryland, as Lee was in the vicinity of Washington. 
We accordingly marched to City Point, where we took 
transports and started in the direction of Washington. 
This was to mislead the rebels, for we did not go a 
great ways until the lights were extinguished, and our 
fleet turned right about and went in the opposite direc- 
tion, passed City Point, and in the morning landed at 
Deep Bottom. We advanced on the rebel lines slowly 
and steadily, driving them back until within seven 
miles of Richmond, where I was wounded. I had been 
back to the rear and was going to the front; on my 
way I stopped in a house. As I entered the lady of 
the house poured a shower of oaths on me, telling what 
ill treatment they had received at the hands of the 
Yankees, and how they had inhumanly murdered wo- 
men and children. I quietly seated myself, and after 
she was through, asked her how she knew this. She 
said it was in the Richmond papers. I asked her if 
on the other hand it said anything about their raids 
through the North. She said "'No, they never did that, 
and never was guilty of such inhuman deeds." She 
said we Yankees were getting into a trap, if we only 
knew it; to which 1 replied that if her head was 
longer than Gen. Grant's she had better take the held. 
She then said she wished none of us would ever cross 
the river alive, and that I would get killed. I said : 



110 SILVER SHEAVES. 

"Madam, tliat is a pretty hard wish, I never wished 
bad luck to any one." "I know it is pretty hard," she 
replied, "but it is hard for you'n's to come down here 
and fight we'n's." I replied, "The next time behave 
yourselves," and left the house. This was my last in- 
terview with the women of the South, and she was the 
most bitter one with whom I had ever conversed. 
I mounted my steed and rode rapidly to the front; 
after going some distance I came into a heavy timber; 
here I met Gen. Birney, formerly commander of my 
division, a noble officer, and part of his staff"; these 
were the last Union soldiers I ever saw. After I passed 
them I turned into a small by-road; soon came to an 
obstruction formed by slashing timber across the road; 
this was done to impede the progress of our advancing 
line. I worked around this, but soon came to another, 
and a little farther on a third one, which was more for- 
midable; in order to get around I was compelled to go 
quite a distance in the timber. The moment I reached 
the road again, a squad of rebels rose up and fired into 
me, wounding my beast in the neck and dislocating the 
horn of my saddle. Then a giant-like rebel rose up 
and called to me to surrender. I instantly took hold 
of the rein close by the bit and wheeled about, and as 
my eye left him he was raising his gun to his face, 
after which he fired, and I was the victim of the charge. 
The ball entered the lower margin of my left temple 
between the eye and ear, passed through my head, cut 
oft' the bridge of my nose, and came out through my 
right eye; where it entered it cut the lower portion of 



Note. — A cut was intended for this page. The author 
received word on goin^ to press that it would be impossible 
to furnish it. 



112 SILVER SHEAVES. 

m}'' temple loose from my cheek, sjjlittin^ mj left 
clieek in tliree different places, and my right in two 
different places. It was supposed by the surgeons that 
the charge was buck and ball; the ball passed through 
my head and the buck glanced over my eyebrow, 
mashing it considerably. I was most horribly man- 
gled, and three days elapsed before I received proper 
attention. After I fell I instantly arose, and having 
the sight of my left eye the first object that met my 
gaze was my horse rapidly retracing his steps. I 
started after him, running three or four steps, which 
brought me to a little embankment on the side of the 
road. I jumped it, and in so doing the blood ran into 
my left eye, totally blinding me; but I kept on until 
I ran against a tree. I sat down beside ic and put my 
arms around it to keep from falling over. As yet I 
had not realized any very aching pain. My head was 
completely benumbed, and my clothes were being sat- 
urated with blood. A rebel now came up, and the 
following colloquy ensued : " O, here is one of our 
boys. Don't you want to go to the hospital?" to 
which I replied, " Yes, sir, if I can get there." He 
said he would go and get a stretcher and some one to 
help bear me off the field, requesting me in the mean- 
time to let him take my things, as some one might 
rob me while he was gone. I rej)lied that they were 
not of much value, and that I guessed I could take 
care of them myself. He at once proceeded to rob 
me. I had on a very fine military vest with gold 
plated buttons that had been presented me the day 



THRILLING CAMPAIGN. 113 

before by our division surgeon; this lie took off me 
and appropriated to himself, then rifled my pockets. 
^ly great anxiety was to get into our lines. "With 
the blood pouring out both sides of my head, to all 
appearance I could live but a short time; I could not 
expect any attention from my captors, and in all prol)- 
ability would be left alone in this forest to die. At 
this juncture a part of a brigade of colored troops who 
were relieved and was on a road a little to ray right 
moving toward the rear; hearing this firing and cotn- 
prehending the situation, they immediately without 
orders charged the enemy and re-captured me. Tlie 
reb who robbed me was captured, and my things 
recovered, which I gave to the brave man who cap- 
tured the reb. Meantime my horse had made good 
his escape. I had ridden through a gap which had 
occurred in our lines, and had come upon a squad of 
rebels who were taking advantage of this gap. It 
seems that the second corps in forming did not make 
connection with the tenth corps which lay on the left, 
and this occasioned the gap into which I rode. After 
I had been re-captured one of the charging party came 
to me and said in the exact words of the rebel : " Oh, 
here is one of our boys." By this time I was growing 
weak from the loss of blood, and was reiterating "if I 
could only get into our lines, if I could only get into 
our lines.'' They then took me to the rear, and by 
the time I reached the division hospital at Deep 
Bottom, on the bank of the James, my head was 
swollen to such an extent that I could not speak. 



114 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



CHAPTER YI 



SUFFERING AND SORROW. 

On the Stretcher — Taken to Carver Hospital — Surgical 
Attention — Progress op my case — Miss Whetton — The 
Death of my Mother. 

ON THE STRETCHER. 

This most terrible misfortune, involving the total 
and permanent loss of sight, occurred about half past 
10 o'clock on the morning of August 15th, and but a 
short time afterward I was transported from the place 
at which the catastrophe took place, and was left on a 
stretcher in front of the Division Hospital. The 
weather was warm, even sultl-y, and I lay for hours 
exposed to the fervid rays of the sun. The dust on the 
highway was more than a foot thick, spreading itself 
everywhere and collecting in my undressed wound, 
causing great irritation. It is difficult to imagine a 
more desolate and melancholy spectacle than my con- 
dition presented that day. My features were so dis- 
figured by the rebel shot; they were beginning to swell, 
and dust and blood mingling together in a horrible 



SUFFERING AND SORROW. 115 

mass, gave me, I know, a revolting appearance. 
Tlirough all the harsh experiences of those hours 
passed on the stretcher sweltering in the heat of an 
August sun, I believe that mj consciousness did not 
leave me for an instant. At times, comprehending 
the awful nature of the wounds I had received, I ex- 
pressed a desire for some one to shoot me and thus put 
me out of my misery. The hospital before which I 
was lying and into which I was not permitted to en- 
ter, was already crowded with sufferers, and what made 
the matter worse, as I afterward learned, some of the 
suro-eons in attendance were too drunk to discharsje, 
with any sort of decency, their professional duties. 
The 2d New York Regiment had been decimated 
in the recent engagement, and many of its members 
were now in the hospital. From the first my case 
was considered hopeless. There was but one opinion 
expressed by surgeons as well as others who surveyed 
me in my forlorn condition, and that was I was mor- 
tally wounded, and my days and even my hours were 
numbered! 

A benevolent chaplain, whose name I would be glad 
to record here if I knew it, saw me several times 
during the day in passing to and fro on his errands 
of mercy. His christian sympathies were excited, 
and, in spite of the universal belief that I could sur- 
vive but a few hours at most, he resolved to do what 
he could to have me taken to Washington and placed 
under j)roper surgical care. Full of kindly feeling for 
the unfortunate boy, he went to the transferring sur- 



116 SILVER SHEAVES. 

geon, under whose authority the wounded men were 
conveyed to the General Hospital at Washington, and 
besought him to have me taken aboard of the transport 
which was to leave for the Federal Capitol at 4 o'clock 
that afternoon. The surgeon had seen me before this 
interview, and his opinion in reference to the hope- 
lessness of my case was that of all others. He said: 

"That boy is mortally wounded; he cannot possiblj 
live longer than a few hours. The boat will be 
crowded, and what is the use of giving to a person 
who is practically dead, a place on the boat which 
ought to be occupied by soldiers to whom we can be 
of some advantage. Your request, sir, must be denied ; 
the boy cannot go." 

The chaplain went away disheartened. He believed, 
with others, that I had but a very brief time to live; 
but, as he passed by me again and again in the course 
of the day, his emotions were profoundly painful. He 
thought of the mother far away who was waiting and 
watching, perhaps in vain, for the return of her son 
from the tented field, and as his feelings increased in 
poignancy he went again to the transferring surgeon 
and begged him, with all the eloquence of warm en- 
treaty, to send me to Washington, but the only con- 
cession that was made by the surgeon, was the state- 
ment that if I survived until nine o'clock next morning 
the request of my friend would be granted. A conces- 
sion such as this was cruelty to me, and the chaplain 
knew it. The hours which would necessarily inter- 
vene between the time of this and the time when the 



SUFFERING AND SORROW. 11" 

transport would start next da^', w'ould prove fatal to 
me unless I were removed to some more comfortable 
place and carefully and skillfully attended. Incited to 
renewed action hy this thought, the chaplain, as a last 
alternative and a perilous one to himself, for he was 
transcending his official duties, went to the captain of 
the transport and besought him to take me on board. 
If this act of the chaplain, in disobedience of the sur- 
geon's authority had been reported at headquarters, 
he would have been punished and possibly dismissed 
from his place; but he was imitating the kindness of 
the good Samaritan no matter what would be the con- 
sequences, and so pleadingly did he cling to the cap- 
tain that the privilege was granted to him to bring me 
on board. Overjoyed at this favor the good chaplain 
hastened to the stretcher, and then, having obtained 
help from others, he took me on board the transport 
State of Maine. 

TAKEN TO CARVER HOSPITAL. 

Thus through the kindness of a christian friend, I 
was conveyed to the boat; and at midnight, August 
17th, I was admitted as an inmate of Carver Hospital, 
Washington City. It will be perceived that from the 
•date of my wound to the date of my arrival at Wash- 
ington, more than three days and three nights elapsed, 
<luring which, as my death was expected every hour, I 
received no surgical attention whatever; .and now as I 
recall, as far as I am able, the incidents of those terri- 
able days, I am impressed with a feeling of wonder, as 



lis SILVER SHEAVES. 

well as of gratitude, that I am still living to record 
these fearful events. Before leaving this subject, an 
explanatory word, in reference to the good chaplain, is 
necessary. Of his good offices to me I was not aware 
at the time; for if I was not in a state of delirium, I 
was, at least, in a condition in "which a person is not 
supposed to have any adequate knowledge of his sur- 
roundings. Months afterward the chaplain happened 
to meet me in one of the streets of the capitol ; and 
notwithstanding the great change, for the better, which 
had occurred in my personal appearance, he thought 
he knew me, and on accosting me he discovered he was 
right. From him 1 learned the facts which are de- 
tailed in the preceding paragraphs. It is a source of 
sharp regret to me, that, here, before leaving this good 
Samaritan, I cannot present his name; but his memory, 
nameless though he is to me, is enbalmed in my heart, 
to remain there, imperishable as the mind that en- 
shrines it. While many of our army chaplains were 
doing more harm than good, often bringing reproach 
to the cause they profess to serve, it stimulates my 
faith in Christianity, to bring back the incidents con- 
nected with my removal from the stretcher to the com- 
forts of a federal hospital. 

CARVER HOSPITAL. 

This hospital is situated on 14th street, and joins 
Columbia College. It comprises some thirty acres of 
ground, which is about twice as long as wide. On 
every side, except the street, are Avards standing to- 



SUFFERING AND SORROW. 11^ 

wards tlie center, and one row across the center. 
Across each ward is a covered walk, which adds very 
much to its excellency and convenience. Head quar- 
ters dispensary and diet kitchen are in the center; also 
a three story water tank, and an operating room — the 
dread of soldiers. A little south of the head quarters 
is the cook-house and dining hall, which has two tables 
and will accomodate about four hundred persons. 
North of headquarters is the band room. The groimds 
are laid off in beautiful beds, highly decorated with 
Howers of almost every kind, which perfume the air 
with their sweet odor. The little weekly paper, Reveille, 
together with the splendid library, all added to make 
Carver the coveted resting place of many a wounded 
and worn out soldier. In fact Carver stood second to 
no hospital in Washington. 

SUKGICAL ATTENTION. 

From the nature of the wound I had received, my 
case, from the first, attracted general attention, espe- 
cially among medical students and professional men. 
There are few, if any, instances on record, in which 
men have recovered, where the conditions, in respect to 
the wound, were identical w^th mine. My case has 
been thought almost phenominal in the history of sur- 
gery. 

After my arrival at Washington, I had a dim per- 
ception that several physicians approached the bed on 
which I was Ivino- and examined me with o-reat curi- 
osity. Believing me to be unconscious, they expressed 



120 SILVER SHEAVES. 

their professional opinions with much freedom. 1 
heard them say: 

" Poor fellow, he is past all help! He is done with 
his campaigning forever." 

I mention this circumstance to show that my re- 
covery was regarded by men of high standing as 
utterly hopeless from the start. My death was expec- 
ted to take place at any time; it could not possibly be 
deferred many hours longer. It was a good thing for 
me, as the result will show, that I was placed under 
the special care of Dr. Wynants, a venerable and ex- 
cellent surgeon, to whose skill I was, under Heaven, 
indebted for my final restoration to health. 

Next morning the operation of probing the wound 
was performed. This ordeal was keenly painful, for, 
before the entire operation was concluded, a piece of 
silk was drawn three times through the wound, each 
time enlarged to meet the demands of the occasion. 
My sensations while passing through this treatment 
were those of unmixed agony. The needle was too 
short for the purpose for which it was required, making 
it necessary for the operator to introduce, to a slight 
extent, his finger into the wound, thus pushing the in- 
strument along: its course. Fragments of bones were 
in this manner disturbed, and the irritation caused in 
this way was a most torturing experience. 

It was not only my good fortune to be treated by a 
skillful and conscientious surgeon, but to be attended, 
likewise, by a faithful and devoted nurse, James 
Buckley, of Brattleboro, Yermont, whose kind offices 



SUFFERING AND SORROW. 121 

contributed greatly to nij eventual recovery. The 
name of our hospital surgeon was O. A. Judson, who 
ranked as major. The Surgeon-General, whose name 
was Barnes, favored me with a visit. Indeed, there 
was uo end to such favors from medical men. There 
were physicians from New York, Pittsburgh, Phila- 
delphia, and other points, who heard of my singular 
case, and who traveled all the way from their homes to 
gratify their professional interest. 

FEOGKESS OF MY CASE. 

As Dr. Wynants informed me afterward, he came to 
my bed morning after morning during the first weeks 
of my sojourn in the hospital, and at each visit he ex- 
pected to find me either dead or in the last stage of 
dissolution. To his surprise, however, as he returned 
day after day to his accustomed place of observation, 
he found me alive, with my system still striving hard 
to obtain the mastery over death. He possessed a 
wide range of surgical reading and experience, but in 
this case of mine there were features of novelty even 
to him. When a month passed away and my consti- 
tution was still bearing up bravely against pain and 
death, he began to indulge a faint glimmer of hope, 
and resolved from that moment to employ all means 
known to medical science to prolong my existence and 
bring me back to health. His professional pride was 
aroused, and he was conscious that if he cured me he 
would achieve a marvelous victory in a case which was 
regarded by common consent as beyond the reach of 
surgery. 



122 



SILVER SHEAVES, 



During the first montli, and it was possibly longer 
than this, the only sense left to me which enjoyed any 
great degree of perfection, was that of hearing. Next 
to this in vigor was the sense of feeling, but this was- 
in a manner benumbed, for it was less sensitive than 
it would have been if I had realized ordinary health. 
The senses of smell and taste were both paralyzed, and 
sight was gone forever ! Never again was I to be permit- 
ted to look out, as I had been wont to do, on the familiar 
scenes of nature; never again would I look on the 
green earth, or the blue sky, glittering witli its retinue 
of suns and stars ; and never again would I have the 
unspeakable privilege of looking into the faces of those* 
home relatives who were dearest to me in life. I can- 
not say that these thoughts, or any others which may 
have been logically connected with them, occupied a 
place in my mind during those long, dull, and mo- 
notonous weeks, which seemed to " drag, like a woun- 
deed snake, their slow length along." It would be 
difficult to analyze the state of my mind while I was 
lying there waiting, without any special consciousness 
and yet without any delirium, the developments of 
the future. Except at intervals, I did not suffer very 
great pain, and as the wound began to heal in a 
healthy manner I had rare opportunities for reflection; 
but for a long time, as I lay in a sort of apathy, or 
rather in a condition of animal enjoyment, the grave 
thoughts of death, the judgment scene, and eternity, 
seemed not to demand any fixed attention. This part 
of mv life comes back to me with a kind of vagueness, 



SUFFERING AND SORROW. I'-i'S 

like a dream, which, in spite of its general impressive- 
ness, is but half remembered. 

MISS WHETTEN. 

One of my best friends in those hospital days, was 
Miss Harriet D. Whetten, of New York. She had 
inherited an estate worth half a million dollars; but, 
when the war broke out, instead of enjoying her large 
patrimony, in the pomps and vanities of fashionable 
life, she went to the hospitals and even to the battle 
fields of the great civil war, devoting herself in kind 
ministrations to the service of our sick and wounded 
'soldiers. Her arduous duties impaired her health, and 
she was compelled, against her will, to return home; 
but as soon as her health was in a measure restored, 
and her business inatters, which had suffered in her 
absence, were adjusted, she resumed her old place 
in the hospitals. Glad am I that I met this lady. 
She provided for my wants, and saw that I was kept 
comfortable. After I was able to sit up, she visited 
me daily, often two and three times a day, and each 
time read and explained a portion of the Bible, and 
talked to me of the goodness of God. She seemed to 
take an interest in my spiritual welfare, and to her the 
inmates of Carver Hospital owe a debt of gratitude 
which they can never repay. 

THE DEATH OF MY MOTHEK. 

I come now to speak of an event which cast an ad- 
ditional gloom over my life, the death of my mother. 



124 SILVER SHEAVES. 

One day shortly after the disastrous one in which I 
was wounded, my parents stopped in Greenville, at 
the store of S. P. Johnson, while on their way to visit 
jny uncle's family, at Shakelyville, about ten miles dis- 
tant. M}^ mother remained in the store while my 
ftither hastened to the post office to sjet his mail. He 
returned, a little while after, with two letters, observ- 
ing, at the same time, to my mother, that these letters 
which he had not as yet opened, contained news, he 
believed from the seat of war. Sometime before a 
false report of my death had been communicated to 
my friends at home; but this rejwrt had been denied. 
"When my mother saw the letters, and knew that they 
were from the army, she was overjoyed at the thought 
of receiving intelligence from me. 

"Don't be too fast," said my father to her, kindly, as 
he noticed her delight'; "these letters may contain sad 
news, and it is well for us to be prepared for it. We 
will soon know the best or the worst." 

Having said this he opened one of the letters, and to 
liis dismay, read the announcement sent by some well- 
meaning friend, that I was mortally wounded, and that 
if my friends expected to see me alive, they must hasten 
with all speed to Washington. I need not dwell on the 
eft'ect which this melanclioly announcement had upon 
my parents. It was a bitter, gloomy day to them, and 
my mother seemed utterly broken in spirit. Relief, 
■in a measure, came to her when the other letter, which 
was from Miss Whetten, was read. It contained the 
information that I was badly wounded; but this was 



SUFFERING AND SORROW. 125 

accompanied by tlie statement that I was in good hands 
and was receiving every possible attention, botli in i-e- 
spect to nursing and medical treatment. This letter 
had a tendency to allay the excitement from which my 
parents were suffering; but, at the least, the news just 
received was very sad. Instead of pursuing their way 
as intended, my parents returned to their home. At 
the gate my mother was met by my brothers and sis- 
ters; and as soon as they saw the evident signs of grief 
in her face, they inferred the truth. A sad scene was 
that which presented itself when the different mem- 
bers of the family were grouped at the gateway, their 
minds wandering far away to a bed in a hospital, on 
which a wounded soldier was, possibly at tliat very 
moment, breathing his last. How many scenes like 
this were reproduced in the minds of northern homes, 
by the war for the Union ? This was but one among 
multiplied thousands; but taken alone as an isolated 
instance, it was sad enough to photograph itself forever, 
on the memory of those who shared in this great afflic- 
tion. 

It was a journey by rail of several hundred miles 
from Greenville to Washington, and the state of tlie 
country was such that traveling, especially for a ladj-, 
was not the pleasantest occupation in the world. It 
was decided that my mother should visit me as soon 
as preparation could be made for starting. At last 
everything was in readiness for her proposed trip, and 
my father went to Greenville to purcliase a railroad 
ticket. AVhile there he received a letter from Wash- 



126 SILVER SHEAVES. 

ington stating that it would not be advisable for any 
of my relatives or friends to visit me, as my condition 
was so critical that the surgeons would not allow even 
an old acquaintance to sj)eak to me, as they feared 
that the least emotion, excitement or worry might 
snap the slender cord on which my life hung. Thus 
the last opportunity to pass an hour or a moment in 
company with my beloved mother was past forever. 

On the third day of December, between three and 
four months after I was taken to the hospital, my 
mother died without seeing her absent son, "When 
the sad news reached me, it brought back to my mind 
the old parting scene with the greatest vividness; and 
in the light of the mournful bereavement which had 
just shadowed my life, I was able to interpret aright 
the strange presentiment I experienced when my hand 
lingered in hers for the last time. It was pleasant to 
know that her last days were soothed and comforted 
by encouraging letters from Miss Whetten, who, from 
time to time all through those weary months of wait- 
ing and watching, apprised the family of the certain 
progrees of my cure, and of the great kindness of my 
many friends at Washington. It was pleasant to think 
of these things, as I often did, when removed so far 
from the home circle. 

I was getting along remarkably well, when the sad 
tidings of ray mother's death arrived. This was almost 
more than I could bear. I immediately sent for Miss 
Whetten, who came, and with tears of sympathy in 
her eyes and words of condolence, tried to soothe the 



SUFFERING AND SORROW. 127 

pain of my aching heart. I thought of the loved one 
who liad gone and left me to finisli my journey alone. 

"A lesson sad, but fraught with good — • 
A tearful one, but streugth'ning food, 

Thou gavest me. 
We learn that dust returns to dust — 
Anew in God we put our trust. 

And bow the knee. 

"She sleeps in peace — yes, sweetly sleeps, 
Her son'ows all are o'er. 
With her the storms of life are past — 
She's found the heavenly shore." 



128 SILVER SHEAVES. 



OHAPTEE TIL 



LIFE IlSr WASHINGTON. 

Incidents in Hospital — Home Furlough — My Sister — Hos- 
pital Scenes — Abraham Lincoln — The Museum — Secre- 
tary Stanton — Visiting my Regiment— Insolence of a 
Lieutenant — A glance at the Capitol — View op the 
Navy Yard — Grand Review. 

INCIDENTS IN HOSPITAL. 

The closing .incidents of the last chapter disturbed, 
in some degree, the order of time in my narrative, and 
I will now go back to relate some things which oc- 
curred in the hospital before the date of my mother's 
death. The reader is already informed that my wound 
had begun to heal, and after the first month and a 
half of treatment, my convalescence was well estab- 
lished. My cure went on rapidly. Just before the 
advent of cold weather, a soldier whose place was near 
me was pronounced to be suffering from gangrene in 
a wounded limb. At this period I w^as familiar enough 
with wounds in general to know that if gangrene were 
to introduce itself into the wound I had received the 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 129 

whole college of surgeons would rot be able to save 
me. It so happened that the assistant nurse on one 
occasion carelessly employed the same sponge and 
basin for me which he had used in dressing the wound 
of the gangrenous patient. On learning this I became 
alarmed, and shortly afterward I was remov^ed from 
my quarters in number 32 to 27. My new place was 
much more warm and comfortable for the season than 
the one I had vacated. Here for several days I was 
troubled with my new apprehensions in regard to gan- 
grene, and as I took a severe cold, consequent upon 
removal, my uneasiness was intensified. The pain in 
one of my eyelids helped to confirm me in the lalse 
idea I was entertaining in reference to my wound. It 
was not long, however, before my imaginary fears 
were put to rest. 

Some time before my mothers death, a physician. 
Dr. Brown, whose residence was at Clarksville, but a 
few miles away from Greenville, paid me a visit. He 
very kindly proposed to take me home with him. At 
first, weak as I was, I was very strongly prompted to 
go, but remarked to my friend that I could not take 
this step unless my doctor consented. Earnestly as I 
wished to go, 1 could not think of doing so if it in any 
wise would retard my recover3^ The opinion of Dr. 
Wynants was unfavorable and the contemplated trip 
was therefore abandoned. Thus the last chance to see 
my mother was lost. 
9 



130 SILVER SHEAVES. 



HOME FTJKLOUGH. 



January 12tli, 1865, 1 started home on a sixty days' 
furlough, accompanied by Luke Hubbard, a musician, 
who was detailed as my guide on the route. I was 
kindly met and warmly received by my friends and 
associates, and enjoyed myself while in their society. 
On the 26th of March I returned to Washington and 
was Avelcomed back to Carver Hospital by my soldier 
friends, in whose company I liad enjo3"ed many happy 
hours. 

MY SISTER. 

I pause here in my narrative to pay merited tribute 
to a member of our family, whose name has not hith- 
erto been mentioned, my sister Lizzie, At the period 
of my mother's death this good sister of niine was but 
fourteen years of age. Young as she was, the sad 
event which had just occurred introduced her to new 
and heavy responsibilities. Tlie other children at 
home were all younger than she, and on this account 
as well as on that of special fitness for the position, 
she was called on to take the place made vacant by 
death. In this new sphere of effort and accountability 
she acquitted herself nobly, not only as a faithful friend 
and ally of our father, but as a patient and judicious 
elder sister to the others. For four years, and until 
my father married again, she discharged the duties 
devolving upon her with unswerving fidelity. 

Pursuing the history of my sister a little farther, it 
is proper to say that, years after, she became an in- 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 131 

mate of my family, remaining with ns until her mar- 
riage with A. W. Davis, a merchant of Prairie City, 
Iowa, a noble man, and they now have a pleasant and 
happy home. 

HOSPITAL SCENES. 

My furlough expired on the 12th day of March, but 
in consequence of a flood wdiich damaged the railroads 
and made travel impracticable for days, T did not reach 
the city until the 26th, fourteen days behind time. 
The tardiness of ray arrival was made the subject of 
many jokes on the part of my friends at the hospital. 
One of them jestingly said: "You will be shot as a 
deserter." Another of my companions replied, that 
"if I was to be shot for a breach of rules in remaining 
at home too long it would not do to use a minnie rifle 
with which to take my life, for the rebels had already 
tried that without effect, and if it was to be done at all 
in any effectual way a battery of artillery must be 
called out, for nothing short of this will stop his 
wind." 

On my retuwi to Washington, my reception from 
friends and casual visitors was verv flattering. The 
liighest men, as well as M^omen, of Washington society, 
seemed to take a pleasure in calling upon the sick and 
w^ounded soldiers. On two occasions Mrs. Lincoln, on 
her round of visitations, came to see me. 

As my strength was returning, ]>rivileges were ac- 
corded to me which were not usual. Cap. McCollum, 
of the Guard, kindly gave me a daily pass under which I 



132 SILVER SHEAVES. 

was free to visit Congress, or any other place of public in- 
terest, in the federal capital. My companions, among 
the convalescent soldiers, each one of whom could ob- 
tain only a weekly pass, were very anxious to act as 
my guide, for this would enlarge their privileges. 
Each morning when I was about to start there was a 
friendly, but very exciting competition among them, 
as to which one of them should be my escort. The 
value attached to the office of guide was enhanced by 
the fact that at restaurants and hotels and places of 
amusement, a blind soldier was the recipient of many 
kindnesses, which cost him nothing, and which were 
shared alike by his friend. 

My nurse in number 27, was George Roby, of 
Koby's Corner, N". H. He was a pleasant and kind 
hearted man, devoted to his vocation and very popular 
with the boys. The pranks of which we were guilty, 
at his expense, were numberless; and yet, as the victim 
of our practical jokes, he never complained, but joined 
at once in the mirth that was caused. One day I took 
hold of a chair, the entire back of which was gone, and 
thrust a thumb into one of the large holes on the side. 
Lifting the chair, with my thumb in this position, I 
began to groan in apparent anguish, calling out at tlie 
same time to George to help me out of the difficulty. 
Believing that my thumb was actually imprisoned, and 
as a consequence I was suftering great pain, the kind 
nurse went to work in good faith to liberate me. He 
tried several methods, but from the way in which I 
manipulated the chair, his effi)rts were all in vain. At 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 133 

length, in sheer dispair of bringing about my freedom 
in any other way, he took a hatchet, and chopped the 
chair to pieces. He never comprehended the joke, un- 
til, at the c<:)nclusion of his thankless toil, he was 
greeted by a round of immoderate guifaws from my 
companions who were witnesses of the amusing scene. 

On another occasion I placed some hard, dry cur- 
rants, which could not well be used for any good pur- 
pose, on the sheet of Mr. Roby's bed, and besides this 
I arranged his bedstead in such a manner as to make 
it fall if too great a pressure were put upon it. At 
regulation time George blew out his light and clam- 
bered unsuspiciously into his place of repose. Imme- 
diately the contact of those horrible currants with his 
feet and limbs made him exercise himself in a sort of 
spasmodic way, which resulted in bringing his bed 
with a loud crash to the floor. Of course we all sym- 
pathized with him in this catastrophe, and to this day 
Oeorge does not know, perhaps, what made his bed 
fall so easily. 

While we were thus diverting ourselves as the days 
went by there were other scenes often in progress, the 
sadness of which would arrest us in our merriment, 
and bring the unbidden tear to our eyes. A poor 
mother who had received word that her son was lying 
wounded in the hospital and was anxious to see her 
hastened with all eagerness to be present during his 
sufferings. There was a world of anxiety and love 
depicted in her face as she asked to be shown to the 
place where her son lay. I leave the reader to imagine. 



134 SILVER SHEAVES. 

for I cannot describe it, the feelings of that devoted 
mother when the intelligence fell upon her heart that 
her idolized son was already dead, and his body re- 
moved from the hospital. Such heart-rending scenes 
in those days often occurred. 

A little trick with cards prevailed among the boys 
by which in some mysterious way known only to 
experts the age of a person could be told with great 
accuracy. I became proficient in this trick, and one 
day while on the street cars I met a grave United 
States senator, in whose presence, being invited to do 
so, I exhibited my skill in this acquirement with cards. 
He looked on with much interest, remarking at length 
that if he had possession of the cards till Monday he 
would find out the secret for himself. 

'' If you do," said I, somewhat saucily, " don't tell 
anybody." 

"I won't," replied the senator, in such a literal, 
matter-of-fact way, that its very drollness was irresisti- 
ble. A general laugh from the ladies and gentlemen 
present ensued. I loaned the cards to the senator, 
and on the day designated he returned them with the 
statement that he could not see into them. 

ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

The high estimation in which President Lincoln 
was held by the soldiers of the Republic is too well 
known to need comment here. I shared in a very 
large degree this universal feeling, and on Tuesday 
evening, April 11, 1865, just three days before his 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 135 

death, I had the honor of hearing the last public speech 
of his life. It was delivered in front of the AVhite 
House, to a large concourse of citizens and soldiers 
who came to do honor to the President, and to cele- 
brate the final victories of the war. I apjjend here 
the opening paragraph of this last address, as it refers 
to the achievements of the soldier. 

"We meet this evening not in sorrow, but in glad- 
ness of heart. The evacuation of Petersburgh and 
Richmond, by the insurgent army give hope of a 
speedy peace whose joyous expression cannot be re- 
strained. In the midst of this, liowever, He from 
whom all blessings flow must not be forgotten, nor 
must those whose harder part gives us the cause of 
rejoicing be overlooked. Their honors must not be 
.parceled out with others. I myself was near the front 
and had the high pleasure of transmitting much of the 
good news to you, but no part of the honor for plan 
or operation is mine. To Gen. Grant, his skillful 
officers and brave men, all belongs. The gallant navy 
stood ready, but was not in reach to take active part," 
etc. 

Just one week from the date of this address the 
body of the late President lay in state at the White 
House and many of us visited it, and two days later 
it was placed in the rotunda of the Capitol. I went 
there on that day and mourned with a bereaved people. 
The popular excitement at Washington caused by his 
death has had no parallel in our history, and that man 
rashly threw away his life who, in those days, spoke 



136 SILVER SHEAVES. 

disrespectfully of the dead. Several instances occurred 
in which rebels or rebel-sympathizers were killed out- 
right in the city because of their intemperate language 
in reference to our lost leader. 

THE MUSEUM. 

The Medical Director took a lively interest in my 
case from the first; he frequently sent his adjutant or 
orderly to inquire how my wound was progressing, 
"When I was able to walk around and enjoy the sights 
and scenes of the great Legislative Metropolis, he had 
the goodness to send for me. I repaired at once to 
his office and was received by him with marked atten- 
tion and kindness. He conducted me through the U. 
S. Medical Museum, showing me, with pains-taking 
patience, many wonderful curiosities which were there 
on exhibition. Fragments of the human frame, and 
entire skeletons, were strewn about in melancholy pro- 
fusion. Among other relics he showed me the skull 
of a soldier who had fallen in the earlier pai't of the 
war. A spent ball, which yet possessed force enough 
to do injury, had struck him behind the eye, in the 
exact place in which I had been shot myself. The ball 
did not penetrate far, and in comparison with my 
wound it was, to all human appearance, less dangerous 
and deadly. Yet, superficial as this hurt was, no one 
believed that the soldier had any sort of show for his 
life; but despite this strong belief he did not die until 
the nineteenth day after the accident. The natural 
inference from all this was, as the medical director in- 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 137 

formed me, that my case was, perhaps, the most re- 
markable on record, taking into consideration the 
grave character of my wound and my ultimate re- 
covery. 

SECRETARY STANTON. 

One day I had occasion, in company with my friend, 
Matthew Nolan, to visit the office of the Secretary of 
War, to obtain an order for a suit of clothes to replace 
those I had lost when wounded. Mr. Stanton received 
me with considerate kindness. This was my first in- 
terview with him, but he had often seen me before as 
I was passing along the streets. His great heart was 
filled with sympathy for the common soldier. 

It matters not to my purpose how the conversation 
detailed below originated. Suffice it to say, that in 
the course of this interview the subject of passes was 
canvassed. I showed him mine fz'om Capt. McCullom, 
on which, in apparent astonishment, he asked: 

" Do you need a pass?" 

I answered him: "According to the rules and regu- 
lations of our hospital we are required to have a 
pass." 

The Secretary then rejoined : 

" Is it possible that they require a pass from you? 
Well, you will not be required to show a pass here- 
after. You can go wherever you please, subject to no 
restrictions of this kind." 

I remarked to him that this was a great privilege. 

"Yes," he promptly replied, "a greater privilege 



138 SILVER SHEAVES. 

than Gen. Grant enjoys in the field." He went on to 
say afterward: " I see that the citizens manifest much 
sympathy for you, and that it affords you great pleas- 
ure to enjoy your liberty to go where you please, and 
I here detail this friend of yours as your guide and 
orderly while you are in the service." 

I thanked the Secretary very warmly, after which 
he presented me with an order on Capt. Tomlinson, 
head-quarters clothing store, for the clothes I needed. 
Here, before closing this paragraph, it is a fitting- 
tribute to a worthy friend to say 'that Sergeant Mat- 
thew Nolan was not only a guide and a companion 
but an amanuensis and reader as well, helping me to 
keep up a correspondence of large proportions. 

VISITING MY REGIMENT. 

About this time the victorious armies of the United 
States were encamped in the vicinity of Washington. 
I desired to visit my regiment which was then stationed 
at Arlington, some miles distant. In visiting places 
in the city, a pass from Captain McCullora was neces- 
sary; but when the boys wished to go beyond the city 
limits, they were obliged to obtain a pass from the 
Provost Marshal. 

Next morning after my interview with Mr. Stanton, 
I went, more as a matter of form than anything else, 
to ask ihe guard to pass me. The result was, that I 
was obliged to go from the guard to the captain him- 
self, who was busy at the time, and not in his usual 
good humor. 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 139 

"Mr. Sallada," said he, "yoii don- 1 want a pass to-day. 
You have been getting one every day," 

I then informed him of my late interview with the 
Secretary of War, and the result of it. 

Said the captT?in: "If you have a pass from Mr. Stan- 
ton, show it and go your way." 

To show this pass, was the very thing I could not 
do; for the authority I had received from the secretary 
was simply verbal, and nothing more. Taking advan- 
tage of this circumstance, the captain said, rather pet- 
tishly: 

"Secretary Stanton don't run this hospital." 

I left the captain resolved in my mind to settle this 
matter as speedily as possible. Along with my guide, 
I went to the rear of one of the wards, where, finding 
a place in a high board fence most easily scaled, we 
managed, with some difficulty, to clamber over it with- 
out being observed. We then repaired to the war of- 
fice, where we apprised Mr. Stanton of the trouble we 
had experienced. Having heard us attentively, the 
secretary remarked with feeling: 

"Some of our contract doctors in these hospitals, put 
on more style than the brigadier generals in the field." 

He then dispatched a messenger for Captain McCul- 
lom ; and after we were dismissed, and while on our way 
back to the hospital we met the messenger along with 
the captain, proceeding to the war office. It is need- 
less to say I had no more trouble with the hospital 
guard. 



140 SILVER SHEAVES. 

INSOLENCE OF A LIEUTENANT. 

Under this authority from Mr. Stanton it was not 
necessary for me to apply to the Provost Marshal, for 
a pass to visit the regiment, but as my guide would 
probably need such assistance, we went to the Mar- 
shal's place of business, and secured the required pa- 
pers for both of us. We then started for the regiment- 
In proceeding to the river we were compelled to run 
the gauntlet of three guards, stationed a little distance 
apart from each other. First, there was a corporal, 
next came a sergeant, and lastly a lieutenant. We 
passed all three without me being required to show 
my papers. Having crossed the river in a boat, we 
found three guards of corresponding ranks on the oj)- 
posite side. These we passed in the same way, with- 
out au}'^ challenge. Proceeding onward to the regi- 
ment, I spent two liappy days with the boys, enjoying 
their societv, and hearins^ them recount their thrilliuiij 
stories of camp and field life. 

On our return to the city the boat on which we 
recrossed the Potomac was crowded with ladies and 
gentlemen. Among the latter were officers of the 
highest rank, some of whom favored me with sympa- 
thetic attention. I happened to be pretty well dressed 
at the time; and to add to my appearance, I wore a belt 
given to me by one of Sheridan's scouts, during my visit. 
It was formerly worn by a Union major-general, and was 
captured from him by a rebel brigadier, from whom it 
was recaptured by the scout, and presented to me. 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 141 

The three guards whom we passed before re-cross- 
ing the river did not challenge me. Approaching the 
lieutenant on the Washington side, we were about to 
23roceed past him when he promj)tly demanded my 
papers. 

"You don't want a pass from me, do you?" I in- 
quired, fumbling in my pocket as though in search of 
that document. 

"Yes, 1 do," he replied, in a very surly tone, "and 
what is more, I intend to have it." 

A crowd was gathering around us, among whom 
were some of the officers from the boat, and several 
ladies were there likewise. Incited by this circum- 
stance, as well as others, I reasoned the case with the 
lieutenant to the best of my ability. I resolved not to 
present my pass. Argument, however, was lost on 
him. He grew more and more angry and vociferous, 
ending at last in downright brutality, so far, at least, 
as his offensive manners were concerned. Here I cut 
him short by saying: "I see, sir, that you have never 
been at the front, where there is danger as well as 
glory. Your conduct proves this to me, for if you had 
ever been at the front and had shared in the dangers 
and privations of a soldier you could not have the 
heart to treat an unfortunate comrade in this way." 

These remarks hit him hard, and he squirmed, for 
there were certain passages in his past career which 
they seemed to unearth, but of which I was then igno- 
rant. Stubborn and dogged to the last, he threw him- 



142 SILVER SHEAVES. 

self angrily on his dignity, exclaiming at the same 
time "doyoii know who 1 am, sir?" 

"No, sir, I don't, and what is more I don't care," I 
replied, with all the emj)hasis I could summon to my 
aid. 

Drawing himself up with a show of vast military 
pride and haughtiness, he rejoined "I am a lieutenant 
sir." 

" "Well," said I, " catching at the first repartee which 
suggested itself, "is a lieutenant above a captain?" 

My answer was wholly inadvertent, given on the 
spur of the moment, but somehow or other it had the 
eftect to disconcert the lieutenant and bring out a roar 
of laughter at his expense from all the bystanders. 
Even the ladies who happened to be present could not 
repress their mirth. Thus repulsed, my antagonist 
retired from the contest, and we proceeded on our way 
masters of the situation. Whether my major gen- 
eral's belt or my coat with gold plated buttons had 
anything to do in backing up my last chance shot, I 
leave the reader to determine. 

It is a fitting close to this episode to say that it was 
reported by some one in the Washington Chronicle, 
and it w^as discovered afterward that this lieutenant 
had belonged to an eastern regiment. Some time 
before I met him he was severely injured in the ankle 
while he was involved in a midnight brawl. So this 
was the cause of his admission into the Invalid Corps. 
It was true he had never been to the front. 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 143 

A GLANCE AT THE CAPITOL. 

Tliis structure covers four acres of ground. The 
dome is two hundred and fifty feet high. On top of 
this is the Goddess of Liberty, which is eleven feet 
high. As you ascend the east steps you immediately 
emerge into the rotunda, which is the interior of the 
dome. Tliis is round and surrounded by gorgeous 
paintings, such as the Discovery of the Mississippi 
River, Landscapes, and Pen-y's Victory on Lake Erie, 
which I count the most splendid of all. This picture 
cost the Government twenty -five thousand dollars. 
Over the west door is a portrait of General Grant, the 
hero of the war. North of the west door is a marble 
statue beautifully illustrating the death of Tecumseh. 
The north door leads to tlie floor of the Senate, and 
the south one to the floor of the House. The yard, 
of about four acres, is beautifully sliaded and filled 
with seats. In front of the Capitol is a large basin 
of water filled with various kinds offish. This basin 
is carved out of stone and is probably over sixty feet in 
circumference. 

VIEW OF THE NAVY YAED. 

Here we find some eighty acres enclosed by a high 
brick wall. The main entrance is armed by two an- 
cient brass pieces, one on either side, and captured in 
1804. At the dock we find a man-of-war carrying ten 
guns, nine inch calibre. Next is a Monitor, the Mon- 
tauck, that has passed through many a fiery ordeal. 
Her sides are covered by five and deck by four plates 



144 SILVER SHEAVES. 

of iron, one inch thick. Her turret is round and 
covered witli eleven plates of iron, one inch thick. 
This immense amount of iron is dented iji places. One 
place it is bulged in four inches by the shots it re- 
ceived, while her sides are jammed five inches, most 
of the plates giving slightlj^ instead of breaking. In 
this castle are two guns. The largest is four feet 
through at the breech and eighteen feet long. It 
weighs over twenty-one tons, and throws a fifteen inch 
shell with thirty-five pounds of powder, or solid shot 
weighing four hundred and thirty pounds with seventy 
pounds of powder. I witnessed the efiect of one of 
these solid shots on a target of ten inches of iron and 
four of wood, and one more shot would have pierced 
this huge body of iron and wood. In the practice 
battery there were a great many curious guns. The 
most beautiful of all was a piece captured in 1793; 
also another called Whitworth, which threw a slug-shot 
eleven inches long seven inches into solid iron. The 
largest shell on exhibition there was twenty inches 
through or five feet around, thrown by a mortar as 
wide as long, and weighs about nine tons; when 
charged it is nearly full to the muzzle. One may 
read of all this and have good powers of comprehen- 
sion, but never will they have an idea half extravagant 
enough until they have themselves seen these things. 

GKAND REVIEW. 

The two great armies under Meade and Sherman 
were now at Washington, preparing for the great 



LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 



145 



review. Stages or stands were erected near the White 
Honse, on Pennsylvania Avenue. At length, all 
being in readiness, the review commenced May 22d, 
1805, and lasted two days. Stand number two was 
occupied by the President, Foreign Ministers, Gen- 
erals Grant, Meade, Sherman, and a number of other 
generals and high officials of our land. I received a 
complimentary ticket to stand number three, next the 
President's stand. The w^eather on this occasion was 
beautiful, and the scene was imposing, as the columns 
of Boys in Blue marched by, while the bands swelled 
the air with notes of thrilling music. 

^ " Twere worth ten years of peaceful life 

One glance at that array." 




10 



116 SILVER SHEAVES. 



OHAPTEE VIII. 



m PHILADELPHIA. 

My Contest with Red Tape — The Hat Cord — Trick with 
Cards — My Manufacture — Discharge and Commission — 
The Brave old 57th. 

my contest with red tape. 

In the spring of 1865, after I had been an inmate 
of the Washington Hospital for several months, the 
thought suggested itself to me to secure the removal 
of my quarters to McClellan Hospital, Philadelphia. 
As a general thing my time had been spent very hap- 
pily, but there were two circumstances which seemed 
to demand, or at least to justify, this contemplated 
change. The condition of my left eye was such as to 
inspire me with some hope that, under the treatment 
of a skillful occulist, the sight of that eye might be 
restored. Hearing of Satterlee's Eye Infirmary, I 
deemed it advisable to visit that institution. Besides 
this, there was in the city of Philadelphia one of the 
finest asylums in the country for the education of the 
blind. The reader will now see what inducements I 



IN PHILADELPHIA. 147 

had to secure this removal. It may as well be stated 
here as elsewhere, that the fond hope I indulged in 
reference to the partial recovery of sight was alto- 
gether delusive. Nothing short of a miracle like 
those which were performed by the Savior while on 
earth, could raise my dead eyes to life. 

Having decided upon the change just referred to, I 
determined to take with me raj Orderlj- Sargeant, 
]^oian. He had been with me so lono:, and his services 
had become so invaluable in many respects, that to 
lose him would have been a calamity indeed. The 
first thing in order was to send to headquarters my 
application to be transferred, and the next thing was 
to wait as patiently as possible the arrival of the nec- 
essary papers. Each morning at nine o'clock was the 
time set apart to transmit all such documents into the 
hands of the parties for whom they were made out. 
My application had been on file several days, long 
enough in all conscience for the transfer to reach me 
through official channels. Every morning I posted 
myself at the proper place, but as days passed and my 
name was not called out, as I had every reason to 
■expect it would be, I finally became disgusted and 
determined to bring the matter to a definite and speedy 
issue. 

I secured an interview with the officers of the hos- 
pital, consisting of the captain and the two surgeons, 
one of the hospital and the other of my ward. I in- 
quired of them if my transfer had come from the 
Medical Director. The answer was that it had not. 



148 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



I soon saw by the questions they began to present to 
me that there was something wrong. One of tlie sur- 
geons wanted to know who w^as to be my guide and 
companion during my stay in Philadelphia. My an- 
swer was not at all satisfactory. They concurred in 
the declaration that Sergeant ISTolan's services in the 
hospital were too indispensable to permit them to let 
him go. So far as my own transfer was concerned, 
provided I would take some one else as guide they 
interposed no objections, but on this point I was un- 
willing to yield. My trip to Philadelphia would have 
been robbed of more than half its interest in the 
absence of my inseparable companion. Finding at 
length that these officers would not be moved from 
their purpose by any common argument, I left them 
for that time, resolved, however, to renew the contest 
at an early opportunity. 

I went over to the office of the Medical Director a 
week later, where I discovered what I had believed to 
be true all along, that the transfer was made out but 
a short time after my application had been sent in. 
It had been forwarded to the M. D. for his signature, 
and it was at that very time, as I had cause to know, 
sleeping the sleep of death in the Circumlocution 
Office at the hospital. Such w^as red tape in those 
days, backed up as it was by prejudice, and a disposi- 
tion to oppress the private soldier. Indignant at the 
way I had been treated, I returned to the hospital and 
renewed my inquiries in regard to the official papers. 
Here I was repulsed again by the declaration that if 



IN PHILADELPHIA. . 149 

I went at all to Philadelphia I must go without Ser- 
geant Nolan. The}' were ready to hand over my 
papers, but as to my friend, he should not accompany 
me. The captain said that as Kolan was the only 
non-commissioned officer of his company doing duty 
in the hospital, and as he was very serviceable in keep- 
ing books and other official records, his place could 
not be supplied. The ward surgeon was equally 
tenacious in holding on to Nolan. He said that as a 
nurse he could find no substitute for my friend, and 
the other surgeon flatly declared that the sergeant 
should not go. Thus, I was in direct collision with 
the authorities, and rash as it may seem, I was as 
obstinate as my superiors, asserting that as Nolan 
knew better than any one else how to contribute to my 
comfort and happiness, I would have him as my com- 
panion. This hot controversy came at length to a 
i'lose, and I went away determined to appeal to the 
last and highest tribunal to which I could go. 

Next morning I proceeded with my guide to the 
AVar Office, where, meeting Mr. Stanton, I expressed to 
him my desire to go to Philadelphia, and stated that I 
wished the sergeant to jjo with me, but this last wish 
was denied. It did not take the good Secretary long 
to decide in this case. His remarks to me on a former 
occasion when I applied to him for his generous inter- 
position in my behalf, revealed the fact that he 
was a true and earnest friend of the soldier. He not 
only comprehended the routine of duties and humilia- 
tions through which I had been called to pass, but he 



150 SILVER SHEAVES. 

seemed to penetrate the very thoni^lits of my heart, 
stimulating me witli words of cheer, and sjnnpathizing 
with my condition, as no other high functionary has 
done from first to last. 

On hearing my case, tlie Secretary said, in his poin- 
ted way: 

" You shall have the sergeant. Come liere on the 
day after tomorrow and your papers will be made 
out." 

The intervening day was the one which had been 
set apart, by proclamation, as a day of N^ational Thanks- 
giving for our victories on land and sea. Next mor- 
ning we returned to the war office and found our 
order of transfer made out ready to be signed by the 
adjutant-general and medical director. Afterward, 
when the order was signed by these officers, I was in- 
formed that it must yet receive the signature of the 
hospital surgeon. I disliked very much to go back 
again and beard the lions in their den, and therefore 
went after office hours, depositing the order with the 
clerk, in the absence of his superior. As soon as he 
saw the document, the clerk, who was really my 
friend, said: 

"What have you been doing? You'll catch it." 

N^ext day the triumvirate sent for me. They were 
now excited by anger, and repeated their resolution to 
keep the sergeant with them. Keferring to the order 
from the war office, the terms of which were very 
direct and explicit, embracing both Nolan and myself 
in its grant of privileges, I asked them if they were 



IN PHILADELPHIA. 151 

able to get over tliat? Finally the liospital surgeon, 
who was terribly incensed as well as the others, be- 
cause I had appealed to the Secretary, declared most 
emphatically that he ran that hospital and would not 
sign any order that took Nolan away, 

"All right," said 1, and departed. I went away re- 
solved to apply again to the Secretary of AVar, but 
while I was making some necessary preparations be- 
fore starting the surgeon's clerk came down to invite 
me to return, as he had been authorized to do so by 
his superior. I declined to go and he went away, re- 
turning a short time afterward with the transfer, 
signed in the proper manner. I accepted it, and thus 
this contest terminated. 

To show the reader that I was not prompted, in this 
long struggle with power, by a boy's vanity and ego- 
tism, permit me to say that the full sympathy and 
co-operation of all my comrades in the ranks, through- 
out this trying ordeal, were mine; and they were mine 
because these comrades had often been trampled on, 
in the most ruthless wa}', by "contract" tyrants who 
had never beeu at the front, and who for that very 
reason did not know, or wliat is more did not care, 
how they treated the common soldier. 

At the close of our last interview Mdth the Secretary 
of War, he took my companion aside and spoke to 
him in tlie most feeling manner in reference to the 
great confidence I reposed in him, exhorting him to 
continue his worthy efforts to make my unfortunate 
life as pleasant as possible, Mr, Stanton knew how 



152 SILVER SHEAVES. 

strong my attacliraent was to mv friend and lie it 
was, as the reader knows, who had detailed the ser- 
geant as my orderly some weeks before. 

All things were now in readiness, and early in June, 
1865, we transferred our theatre of operations to 
McClellan Hospital, in the city of Brotherly Love. 
]^ot long afterward we were changed to Mower U. S. 
Hospital, in the same city. This is a beautiful and 
convenient building. We had a large and neat 
chapel with a library and reading room attached to 
it. In this chapel we had Bible-class twice a day. In 
the forenoon we were instructed in the Old Testament 
by Miss Biddle, and in the afternoon in the New Tes- 
tament by Mrs. Talbot. We had religious services 
twice on Sabbath, and very often during the week. 
Here the chaplain and others became dee]3ly interes- 
ted in me and desired that I should become a chris- 
tian. Among the rest was Miss Biddle, who would 
have me call very often at her room, and would spend 
an hour or more in exhortation and prayer. But I 
was inflexible, resisting her entreaties. 

The ward in \\diicli we were placed contained sixty- 
five persons, not one of whom professed religion. It 
is no wonder that, with surroundings such as these, 
my heart was inclined to continue in rebellion against 
Divine goodness and mercy. 

"He that covereth his sins shall not prosper, but whoso con- 
fesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy." 



IN PHILADELPHIA. 153 



THE HAT CORD. 



I will relate a little episode in hospital life which 
caused much feeling at the time, and which I think is 
worthy of publication. Every Sabbath morning- the 
members of our ward (and the same routine applied 
to other wards) were commanded to organize them- 
selves into two lines, so as to be prepared to receive 
the visit of the inspecting surgeon. While this cere- 
mony was in progress it was usual for our hats to lie 
on the foot of our beds. One Sunday the surgeon 
made his appearance supported by his escort, consist- 
ing of the corporal of the guard and ward master. 
My unpretending hat was ornamented by a military 
cord, wliich had been given me by an oiBcer of my ac- 
quaintance. It was a iine one, it is true, but there 
was nothing in it which ought to have offended the 
sight of any one. 

On the occasion to which I have alluded the sur- 
geon came in with his usual pompositj' . Observing 
my hat with its attachment he said angrily to my 
friend : 

" Is that your hat, sergeant ?" 

"No; it is Mr. Sallada's,"" was the reply. 

" I want you to take that cord off!" thundered the 
doctor, in a tone of imperial authority. 

Instead of obeying him I persisted in keeping it to 
its place, and during the following week I sewed it so 
tightly to the hat that it could not be pulled away 
without destructive consequences. The next Sunday 



154 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



he presented himself, sporting his iiaming epaulettes, 
for he drew the pay of lieutenant, and the shoulder- 
straps were used to publish that fact to an adniii-ing 
world. Again his eye fell upon the obnoxious cord 
and again his "WTath was kindled. In a paroxysm of 
fury he grasped the hat, and tearing away the cord 
with violence, he put it in his pocket and carried it 
off with him. The hat was seriously damaged, several 
holes being left in it. 

From that moment the doctor became a very un- 
popular man in the hospital. His next inspection in 
our ward was attended by scenes which must have 
burned themselves in his memory. From all parts 
of the room in systematic succession would come the 
ominous questions : " Who stole the hat cord ?" " Who 
stole the blind soldier's hat cord?" 

When the irate doctor would turn in one direction 
to discover the ao^ffressor who could thus contemn and 
mock his high authorit}'^, there was silence and airs of 
innocence in that part of the room, while in his rear 
the same dreadful questions would be repeated from 
half a dozen voices. Active as he was, the surgeon 
in performing his series of comic evolutions could 
not identify the oifenders, and in sheer disgust and 
baffled rage he threatened to send the boys in a mass 
to the guard-house. 

A few days later this contract surgeon in company 
with a lady was passing in a buggy along that part of 
the street which traversed the hospital. Quite a num- 
ber of. us were seated near by, and as the doctor came 



IN PHILADELPHIA. 155 

in sight enjoying the pleasure and the dignity of his 
excursion, he was suddenly assailed by a volley of 
questions like those which had fired his proud heart a 
few days before : " Who stole that hat cord ?" 

This was too mucli for him. Whipping up the 
horse, he rapidly passed beyond the line of our irri- 
tating fire never to trouble us again. When the next 
Sabbath came he was not our inspector, nor was he 
such ever afterward. 

TRICK WITH CARDS. 

A vein of mischief in my composition, or rather a 
disposition to while away the monotonous time led me 
frequently to improvise plans for our common amuse- 
ment. I have spoken of one trick with cards; I am 
now to speak of another: I would propose to a stran- 
ger or to any other novice in the trick that he might 
select any card in the pack I was holding, and I could 
indicate the card without failure every time. This 
seemed to be so impossible of performance, especially 
in view of my blindness, that I could have won hun- 
dreds of dollars if I had seen fit to gamble on the 
result. The secret of the mystery, however, was very 
simple. I had a confederate in this trick who would 
station himself in a convenient but not conspicuous 
place, and after the cards had been thoroughly shuffled, 
and when the novice liad made his selection, I would 
pick ofi^ the cards one at a time, holding them in such 
a manner that my confederate could see them, as well 
as all other interested persons. Retaining an attitude 



156 SILVER SHEAVES. 

of indifference, as thougli lie knew nothing and cared 
nothing about the matter, my confederate would be- 
guile his time by humming a favorite tune. When I 
came to the card which had been selected, and which 
was known to all parties except myself, my friend 
would change the tune to something else, showing by 
this circumstance that the right card was reached. 

MY MANUFACTUKES. 

But my time was not always so badly employed as 
it was when I was attempting to deceive by some trick 
or artifice. Many hours were employed in manufac- 
turing watch chains and rings, generally from gutta 
percha. In time I acquired great adroitness and pro- 
ficiency in making these articles. Those of us who 
engaged in this kind of manufacture realized quite a 
revenue from it. The products of our handiwork 
commanded ready sale, for a good deal of popular in- 
terest centered in the fact that they were made by 
soldiers who had suffered in the service. 

DISCHAKGE AND COMMISSION. 

I have stated in another connection that Philadel- 
phia was honored with a first class asylum for the 
blind. On my first visit to this institution a copy of 
the book of Psalms in raised letters was handed to 
me. It was the first specimen of the kind I had ever 
met with, yet in spite of this fact I was able to read 
the title with great readiness. Mr. Chapman, a prin- 
cipal officer of the asylum, could hardly believe that I 



IN PHILADELPHIA, ' 157 

was unacqiiaiuted with the strangely formed characters, 
my sense of touch seemed to be so perfect. I applied 
for admission into this institution, passed an examina- 
tion and was admitted. I designed to make instru- 
mental music a specialty, as on my acquirements in 
this branch of education I designed to depend for 
future support. All that now remained for me to do 
was to apply for my discharge from the service. This 
I did in due form, and about the same time my friend 
Nolan started to Washington to secure his discharge 
and be mustered out from his company in the Invalid 
Corps stationed at that city. 

My discharge came, but before its arrival the mel- 
ancholy news came that he was dead, having lost his 
life by some accident, the nature of which I never 
fully learned. This was sad intelligence, for the ser- 
geant had been endeared to me by close and fraternal 
intimacy. It was his intention after receiving his 
discharge to return and accompany me on a brief trip 
home, preparatory to my entrance into the asylum; 
his death was a sore bereavement to me. 

Before closing this chapter I will briefly advert to 
another circumstance which engrossed my attention 
for a time. "While at Washington I had a conversa- 
tion one day with Mr. Abbot, of the Sanitary Com- 
mission, in the course of which reference was made to 
the events wdiich took place on the day in which my 
wound wa& received. It was his opinion, and that of 
others who were cognizant of the case, that I rendered 
valuable service to my country on that day, contribut- 



158 SILVER SHEAVES. 

ing to turn the tide of battle in onr favor. He stated 
tliat a commission should be given me by which I 
would be placed on the retired list with the rank of 
captain. He would gladly assume, he said, the task 
of making out the papers, and he was satisfied that 
success would crown the effort. Col. Hardy of the 
war ofiice was another friend who interested himself 
in this matter. I did not ask for any such testimonial, 
but was glad that I had such strong friends at the 
capital. 

About the time I decided to become an inmate of 
the asylum I received a letter from Mr. Abbot, enclos- 
ing the last paper I was to sign in furtherance of the 
proposed commission; but strange as it may appear 
to the reader, I sent back the document unsigned, de- 
clining respectfully the honor. I had an idea that the 
commission, if secured, would compel me to go every 
two months to be mustered for pay at Harrisburgh. 
involving me in large expenses as I would be forced 
to take a guide. Viewing the subject from my inex- 
perienced standpoint, and being delighted at the 
thought of acquiring an education, I declined the 
commission. Mr. Abbot wrote to me expressing sur- 
prise and grief at the decision I had made; but what- 
ever may have been dut}'^ in this matter, I acted 
according to my best convictions at the time. 

THE BRAVE OLD FIFTY-SEVENTH. 

As this is the close of my military career I will con- 
clude the chapter by giving a short history of. my 



IN PHILADELPHIA. 159 

regiment, which was organized at Harrisburg, Pa., 
Sei^tenibcr 18, 1861. Term of service, three years. 
Re-enlisted as a veteran organization December 31, 
1863, at Brandy Station, Va., and was commanded by 
the following officers: 

Colonels. — Wm. Maxwell, Mercer, Pa., attorney- 
at-law, now in Greenville, Pa.; Clias. T. Campbell, 
Pranklin, Pa., promoted to Brigadier General; Peter 
Sides, Philadelphia, from Captain Company A to 
Lieut. Colonel, to Colonel; George Zinn, appointed 
Brev. Brigadier General; Geo. W. Perkins, Bradford. 
Pa., from Adjutant to Captain of Company B, to 
Lieut. Colonel, to Brev. Colonel, a noble officer, for 
wliom I will ever cherish the kindest and tenderest 
regards. 

Lieut. Colonels. — E. W. "Woods, Mercer, Pa.; T. 
S. Strohecker, Venango, Pa., from Captain Company I; 
Wm. B. Keeper, Alleghany, Pa., from Adjutant to 
Captain of Company C, to Major, to Lieut. Colonel; 
L. D. Bumpus, Yenango, Pa., from Captain of Com- 
])any I, a fine man and good officer. 

Majoes. — J. Culp, Bradford, Pa., killed at Fair 
Oaks in 1862; S. C. Simonton, now a justice of the 
peace in Clarksville, Pa., from Captain of Company B, 
a brave, good man, filling both civil and military 
offices very acceptably; Samuel Bryan, Lycoming, 
Pa. 

Adjutants. — Clark M. Lyons, Susquehanna, Pa., 
died from wounds received in action; James D. 
Moore, Mercer, Pa., to Captain of Company I; P. J. 



160 SILVER SHEAVES. 

McMillan, Mercer, Pa. ; Thomas E. Merchant, Phila- 
delphia, Pa. 

Quartermasters. — Horace Willistoii, Israel Gar- 
rettson, Mercer, Pa.; John II. Rodgers, Mercer, Pa.; 
John W. Parke, Mercer, Pa. 

Surgeons. — John W. Lyman, Clinton, Pa.; H. G. 
Kritzman, Franklin, Pa. 

Assistant Surgeons. — A. W. Fisher, IS'orthum- 
berland. Pa.; Thomas Downs, Philadelphia, Pa,; J. 
R. Cassell, Bucks Co., Pa.; William Jack, Indiana, 
Pa. 

Chaplain. — Wm. T. McAdam, Mercer, Pa. 

Our regiment participated in thirty-three general 
engagements besides minor battles and skirmishes, 
and was mustered out of service June 29, 1865, near 
Washington, J). C. As noble and brave a band of 
officers and soldiers as ever wore the blue. 



CIVIL LIFE. 



161 



OHAPTEE IX, 



CIYIL LIFE. 

At Home — Contest with a Swindler — Engaged in Book 
Business — Stung by a Locust — Nearly a Tragedy — ^Memo- 
rable Introduction — Swimming the Alleghany — Home 
AND Home Work — Religious Experience. 

AT HOME. 

In the latter part of September, 1865, I left Phila- 
delphia and returned home, designing, as intimated 
before, to enter the asylum, after a brief visit among 
my old friends. This return to the old haunts and to 
the old associations of home constituted a happy era 
in my life. I was treated everywhere with cordial 
kindness, and I shared largely in all the parties of 
pleasure which were organized among my young 
friends. We had spelling and singing parties, and, in 
brief, nothing was lacking to make my sojourn pre- 
eminently pleasant. So far as our sports and festivi- 
ties were concerned I was admitted to an equal par- 
ticipation in them, and at no tinoe did my companions 
seek to impress me with a feeling of inequality on 
11 



162 SILVER SHEAVES. 

account of my blindness. In all exercises, whether 
athletic or intellectual, I resolved to play my part, 
never standing back because I was deprived of one 
important sense. In other words, I was determined 
to accept nothing from s^nnpathy or loyal gratitude 
which could be earned by actual meritorious service, 
and in thinking upon this subject now I am surprised 
that my acquaintances, in those days, seemed to vie 
with each other in keeping in the background all 
present consciousness of my misfortune. 

CONTEST WITH A SWINDLER. 

In the following December I received a visit from a 
fellow soldier, named Swartzwelder, with whom I had 
become acquainted in the hospital. He was from 
Pittsburg. My stay at home being protracted by one 
cause or another, I began to feel inclined to engage in 
some temporary business. About the first of February, 
1866, a man named George Tate came to our house to 
sell the recipe for the manufacture of Eoorbach's 
Chemical Compound Soaj). He was quite a prominent 
member of the United Brethren Church, at a place 
some miles distant. He made a loud profession of 
religion, and was regarded as a sort of semi-official 
preacher, assuming the functions of the sacred office 
when the regular minister happened to be absent. 
It was on Wednesday that this man made his appear- 
ance; after dinner he began to talk business in a very 
voluble way. He proposed, for fifty dollars, to sell me 
the right for the township in which we were residing. 



CIVIL LIFE. 163 

He declared he had entered it Monday afternoon of 
that week, and the little canvassing he had done over 
this territory was confined to less than two days. As 
to his standing in his own conimunitj^, he was willing, 
he said, to supply ns with all needed references. 
Fully believing the man's statements, I proposed at 
last to give him $45 for the township right. The 
proposition was accepted, and I borrowed the money 
from the bank, as my partner in the venture, Mr. 
Swartzwelder, was not able at the time to furnish his 
proportion of the expense. The kind of soap in which 
this investment was made was manufactured from 
simple ingredients, without the agency of ashes, or ley 
or grease. Thus, simple in composition, and quickly 
and easily made, the soap was of excellent quality. 
On going to work, we soon discovered that Mr. Tate 
had nearly canvassed tlie entire township before the 
right was sold to us; in fact, we were the victims of a 
very mean and dishonorable swindle. Some of the 
bonds our neighbors had given him, which bound 
them not to reveal the nature of the recipes they had 
purchased, were three weeks old at the time we bought 
the territory. This was proof enough of the swindle; 
but we went to work as cheerfully as possible, and, in 
spite of the obstructions in our way, realized quite a 
profit in the course of the next few weeks. 

If I had not forgotten the above circumstance, 1 had 
at least permitted it to pass without serious notice, 
when, some months later, I chanced to be at the resi ■ 
dence of Mr. Phillips, a large coal-land proprietor, and 



lOi SILVER SHEAVES. 

a veiy worthy cLristian gentleman, who lived some 
miles awa3^ While conversing with him, he informed 
me that George Tate, who tlien lived near him, had 
often made his boasts of over-reaching a blind soldier 
near Greenville, in the matter of certain soap recipes. 
Mr. Phillips concluded his information by asking if I 
was not the dupe of this swindle? I satisfied him on 
this point; and, after tarrying for the night, went my 
way, reflecting on the meanness of an arch scoundrel,, 
who had not only perpetrated a wretched swindle, but 
had followed it up by publicly glorying in his own 
shame. My indignation knew no bounds, and I was 
determined to spare no pains in exposing him to sum- 
mary and sj^eedy justice. To do this would be a real 
service, I thought, to societj'. 

On my return home, I immediately wrote to Mr. 
Tate, telling him what I had heard, and respectfully 
demanding restitution. His answer was couched in 
the most insolent and oflfensive terms; throwing oft^ all 
hypocritical disguise, he refused to refund a cent, and 
dared me to do my worst. He told me to crack my 
whip and go ahead; he was ready for me. Incensed 
by this indecent display of bad temper and dishonesty, 
I took the letter to Mr. Hamlin, an attorney, and a 
good friend of mine, at Greenville. I made him fully 
acquainted with the nature of the swindle, and all 
succeeding circumstances connected with it. Having- 
heard me through, he resolved to do what he could to 
punish the swindler; he wrote a letter to that individ- 
ual, which brouglit him to his senses. Tate hastened 



CIVIL LIFE. 165 

at once to town, and secnred an interview with my 
lawyer, in the course of which he was informed that, 
unless he paid back the forty-five dollars which he had 
obtained by fraud, suit would be promptly instituted 
against him, and the whole case would be ventilated 
ill court, to the ruin of his reputation for honesty and 
fair dealing. He M'as alarmed, and begged to have the 
privilege of compromising the aifair, on the payment 
of a less sum, however, than was demanded. He 
pleaded poverty, and spoke of some recent misfortune 
by which he had been crippled; stating, in conclusion, 
that it was impossible for him to pay the entire sum. 
On this point Mr. Hamlin was inexorable; he would 
not move a hair's breadth from his iirst proposition. 
He demanded $45 for his client, and nothing short of 
this amount would satisfy the obligation. 

In his extremity, Tate employed the professional 
services of a lawyer named McDowel, who would not 
liave touched the case if his own reputation had been 
above that of a common blackleg and pettifogger. 
This lawyer, small as he was in his profession, soon 
discovered that nothing could be gained for his client, 
except by compromise; for, if the case went to court, 
scores of witnesses, summoned in my behalf from our 
township, would prove the fact of the swindle; and, 
besides this, the letters Mr. Tate had written to my 
lawyer and myself were so contradictory and self-con- 
victing that they operated in a very damaging way 
against their writer. McDowel undertook the case; 
but, instead of appealing to Mr. Hamlin for a mitiga- 



166 SILVER SHEAVES. 

tion of the demand, he would waylaj^ me when I was 
visiting town, and depict the annoyances and uncer- 
tainties, as well as the expense of going to law, wind- 
ing up with the common-place declaration that it 
would be much better for that little affair between 
Tate and myself to be compromised. At last, after 
referring him many times to my lawyer, and putting 
him off in various ways, I consented to take fifteen 
dollars and let the matter rest in oblivion. The haste 
with which the lawyer transferred the money to my 
keeping was somewhat surprising. He was overjoyed 
to obtain such good terms; and, so far as my knowl- 
edge extends, George Tate has never, from that day to 
this, boasted of his prowess in swindling a blind 
soldier. 

ENGAGE IN BOOK BUSINESS. 

In company with Al. Swartzwelder 1 went early in 
March to Pittsburgh, where we engaged with Ashur 
Ellis, general agent for "VV. J. Holland, publisher, 
Springfield, Mass., to solicit orders for a fine new 
work entitled " Grant and his Campaigns." In 
starting on this new enterprise we were advised by 
Mr. Ellis to go into the country, as it would offer us, 
in our inexperience, better facilities for success in can- 
vassing than the city. A practical canvasser, he said, 
had just made a failure of it in Pittsburgh. 

I listened to this advice, but as I had formed a 
number of agreeable acquaintances in the city, some 
of whom would doubtless serve me in ray business 



CIVIL LIFE. 



167 



relations, I concluded to remain where 1 was, hoping 
to compensate by zeal and energy for my want of ex- 
perience. My success justified me in this decision, for 
the very first day I took in seven orders, and from 
that time forward my success was assured, going be- 
yond my most sanguine expectations. 

In May I returned home, and on the 22d of that 
month I went with my brother John to Clarion 
county, Pa., to visit the family of Samuel Shaner, father 
of. my old comrade, who died in the service. I de- 
signed also, while there, to canvass for the sale of 
books. 

Before I took this trip I wrote to Mr. Chapman, of 
the Philadelphia Asylum, informing him of my en- 
gagement in new pursuits and of my intention to 
remain in them. Whetlier right or wrong, I thank- 
fully declined the advantages which the institution 
proffered. If I had gone to Philadelphia the whole 
course of my after life would have been changed, but 
whether for better or worse I cannot tell. I only 
know that I acted from the best light I had, and how- 
ever smooth and pleasant my life's highway through 
Philadelphia may have been, I cannot now regret the 
decision that was made. 

STUNG BY A LOCUST. 

My first visit to Clarion county was characterized 
by an event which nearly cost me my life. I was 
stopping temporarily with tlie family of an estimable 
lady, known as Mother Shakely. Her son John was 



168 SILVER SHEAVES. 

to me a congenial spirit, full of life and fun, and the 
daugthers of the house were sufficiently attractive to 
make my stay there quite pleasant. Brother John 
and myself had been doing a fine business in piling up 
orders for " Grant and his Campaigns," and our busi- 
ness prospects were anything but gloomy. At the 
time of which I am writino; the locusts were niakino- 
their periodical appearance in vast numbers. In some 
sections the forests were desolated as thous^h a tre- 
mendous frost had spread its blight and devastation 
all around; in other places, thousands of these repel- 
lant creatures seemed to emero;e into the hard hiorh- 
ways from subterranean cavities, literally massing 
themselves in the roads, to be crushed by heavy 
wheels or trampled by the hoof of passing animals. 
The sting of the locust is thought to be as fatal to 
human life as the bite of a timber rattlesnake. Just 
before this visit to the famiW of Mrs. Shakely two 
children and one young lady, all of them living in that 
part of the countrj^, were stung by these insects, and 
death in each case was the result. 

One morning I went with Miss Ada Shakely into the 
garden to help her pick currants. While there I felt 
something on my neck which seemed to require atten- 
tion. Quickly putting my hand to the place, my fin- 
gers pressed a living object; and at the moment this 
pressure was applied a sharp prickling pain convinced 
me that I was stung. The fact is that I had been vic- 
timized by a locust. When the truth was discovered 
I went to the house, believing that if some specific or 



CIVIL LIFE. 169 

antidote could not speedily be found ray days on earth 
were numbered. In a little time a sense of terrible 
giddiness seized me; and a deadly sickness pervaded 
my system. It was well for me that mother Shakely 
was familiar with a m-eat many veo^etable nostrums, 
the virtues of which were beyond question. Without 
showing any needless alarm she went deliberately to 
M'ork, applying her specifies with readiness and skill. 
1 remember that, among other things, onions were 
used; and when the poultice of these vegetables was 
withdrawn from the wound it was noticed that the on- 
ions so used had turned black, showing the malignant 
character of the sting. The remedies of mother Shakely 
along with the hospitable nui'sing I received, saved my 
life; but I had made a narrow escape. If the veno- 
mous sting had been inserted a little nearer the great 
vein of the neck, so as to give the poison a little better 
opportunity to mingle with the circulation, no earthly 
remedies could have saved me from sudden death. 

NEARLY A TRAGEDY. 

While we were at work in Clarion county, many 
happy hours were spent at the home of Samuel Shaner, 
of whom mention has been made in this chapter. The 
tie that liound me to this interesting family was very 
strong; for one of its members belonged to that band 
of thirteen, with whom I had been identified in the 
war for the Union, and of whom there were now but 
few survivors. Thomas Shaner was not one of these 
survivors; his place was vacant in the family circle. 



170 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Here in tliis pleasant liome I was engaged one day in 
some sportive amusement with Addison Slianer, who, 
like myself, was young and full of jovial good humor. 
I remember in recalling the incident, that I seated my- 
self on Addison's knee, and in this attitude, while un- 
der the influence of merry and prankish excitement, 
I took out a pistol which had but one chamber, and 
being certain that it had no load in it, I playfully 
placed the muzzle against his forehead, directly between 
his eyes. The weapon was cocked and I pulled the 
trigger; to my surprise the hammer did not fall. 
This was an uncommon circumstance with this pistol, 
and I pulled again at the trigger, employing more 
strength than before. The hammer Avas still immova- 
ble. I then took the pistol down from the dangerous 
range to which it had been leveled, and without saying 
a word to any one, I went aside to examine into its 
condition. On investigation I found, to my astonish- 
ment and horror, that it was loaded. Some person had, 
unknown to me, deposited a deadly cartridge in the 
chamber, and if the hammer had fallen, in obedience 
to forcible and rej^eated pressure, the brains of my 
young friend would have bespattered the floor, and a 
scene of terror would have been the consequence. To 
this day neither Addison himself, nor any other mem- 
ber of the family knows that the pistol was charged. 
Terrified and dismayed, as I certainly Avas, I had 
enough discretion remaining to keep the secret to mj'- 
self; I was unwilling to let my friends know the ex- 
tent of my foolish carelessness. 



CIVIL LIFE. 171 

MEMOEABLE INTRODUCTION. 

As in other places to which my wandering steps had 
tended, I became acquainted with many warm friends 
in Clarion county. I was prosperous in business, and 
much genial sunshine was thrown into my life. It 
was here I met my destiny, for it was here and about 
this time too I met for the first time Miss Florence 
McGinnis, who subsequently became my wife. This 
■first meeting with her was attended by a feeling singu- 
lar in itself, and very important in its results. I will 
not call it, as a novelist would, love at first sight, but 
I will say that the sensation I experienced as I took 
her hand on this first introduction was of a character 
to impress me with the conviction that her destiny 
and mine were from that moment linked together. I 
did not know at the time that this feeling was recipro- 
cal; I learned that fact afterward. 

SWIMMING THE ALIvEGHENY. 

In describing so many narrow escapes from death 
which were experienced in my young days, it is rea- 
sonable for the reader to infer that I was not only 
fearless of physical danger, but really careless and reck- 
less of consequences. To some extent this inference 
is just. I was ambitious to a fault, and in all feats of 
activity or daring I would not permit the loss of one 
sense to restrain me from taking a full hand with my 
young companions. On one occasion a number of us 
were enjoying the delightful exercise of swimming in 
the Allegheny. Though the river was quite wide at 



172 SILVER SHEAVES. 

the point where we were engaged in this lively recrea- 
tion, I swam across it. Returning toward the othei 
shore I heard the sound of an advancing steamer neai 
at hand. The impulse seized me to approach the boat 
as nearly as possible without incurring any great per- 
sonal risk. I was alone in tliis special enterprise, and 
my companions remained near the shore as witnesses 
of my exploit. I was precipitated into the vortex of 
water in the rear that was caused by the passage of 
the vessel, and the side-long sweep of the rudder. I 
heard exclamations from persons on board and from 
my friends at a distance who were conscious of my 
perilous situation. I was an active and expert swim- 
mer, but it required all my skill in the art and all my 
power of resistance and endurance to keep from being 
drawn under by the engulfing waves; I managed, 
however, to keep afloat in the swirl and recoil of the 
waters, and in a little while I passed beyond the point 
of danger and was saved once more. It must be con- 
fessed that in the crisis of this peril I believed I would 
be swept under the boat and lost, but at no time did 
self-possession desert me. I calculated all the chances, 
knowing well that I had brought on myself this dan- 
ger, and must depend upon my own resources for 
deliverance. 

HOME AND HOME WORK. 

The summer of 1866 had made its advent when we 
again returned home, fully satisfied with our recent 
canvassina: labor. The farmers were about to com- 



CIVIL LIFE. 173 

mence their annual toils in the harvest fields, and re- 
marking that every one else was at work, I felt that 
time with me would pass monotonously unless I took 
up some congenial occupation. Beside this, I did not 
wish to be regarded as differing in any respect from 
the masses of my fellow beings. They wrought with 
their hands, and why should not I? In spite of the 
protest of many friends I went to work, assisting my 
father in all the routine of harvest labor. I made a 
full hand in binding wheat, and in loading and unload- 
ing hay and grain. In addition to this I mowed and 
raked hay, made rails and assisted in building fence, 
and wound up the campaign of bodily exercise by 
climbing tall chestnut trees and knocking the nuts 
from their branches to be picked up from the ground 
by my sister Ailie, who accompanied me on these 
excursions. 

KELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE. 

" If ye will not obey the voice of the Lord, but rebel against the 
commandment of the Lord, then shall the hand of the Lord be 
against you, as it was against your fathers." 

"Rejoice, young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer 
thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the way of thy heart 
and in the sight of thine eyes, but know thou for all these things 
God will bring thee into judgment. " 

During my whole military life I had enjoyed the 
very best of health. I had voAved to God, when suf- 
fering with my wound, that if He would restore and 
preserve my life, I would devote myself unreservedly 
to His service. My wound healed, and I was restored 



iT-i SILVER SHEAVES. 

to the bloom and vigor of life. But I forgot to pay 
niy vow, and lived on in sin. 

Reader, did it ever occur to you while enjoying the 
pleasures of sin and folly, that you had a soul to save> 
a hell to shun, and a heaven to win I Did you evei 
think that all you enjoyed came from God? 

Everywhere I went I met with kind and warm- 
hearted friends; my joy and worldly pleasures were 
excessive; I had perfect success in business; I found in 
every form a friend, and yet I was inimical to God, who 
had endowed all these blessings on me. Ministers 
and christian people were advising and telling me it 
was my duty to become a christian; that my life had 
been miraculously spared ; that I had a mission to fill. 

In the fall of 1866, a j)rotracted meeting was held 
in the vicinity of Greenville, by Rev. J. D. Domer, an 
able and efficient minister. My first impulse was not 
to attend the meeting, for fear I would be persuaded 
to become a christian. Then, my second thought was, 
there were mj'- associates, and if they could resist the 
strivings of the spirit, I could; and so I attended the 
meeting. The sermons were j)owerful, and I felt as 
if they M'ere personally directed to me. I then thought 
of what I had passed through ; how often I had heard 
])rayers at the famih^ altar ascend to the throne in my 
behalf. They were earnest pleadings for my salvation. 
How many times I had seen the tears roll down the 
careworn face of a dear mother, and that mother now 
cold and silent in the grave. I thought of the vow I 
made when I, as it were, was snatched from the very 



CIVIL LIFE. 175 

jaws of death and restored to tlie bloom of life. How 
many sermons I had heard preached, how many exhor- 
tations and prayers, advice and entreaties from chris- 
tian people. These I knew were all recorded against 
me. I felt that the last witness had given in his evi- 
dence against me. I was doomed and convicted, and 
only awaited the verdict. With these thoughts crowd- 
ing my mind, I fell upon my knees and implored God 
to remove this burden of guilt, to wash away the many 
and long contracted sins, to disperse the dark clouds, 
and let His love rain down upon me in copious showers, 
and, like Saul, of Tarsus, said: '' Lord, what wilt Thou 
have me to do?" Thus 1 wrestled with God till He 
blessed me. 

What comfort, what consolation, and what inexpres- 
sible joy burst upon me at this moment! My heart 
was animated with tlie love, peace and happiness of 
Jesus Christ. 

"My God, I know that I must die, — 
My mortal life is passing hence; 
On earth I neither hope nor try 

To find a lasting residence. 
Then, teach me by Thy heavenly grace, 
With joy and peace my death to face." 



176 SILVER SHEAVES. 



OHAPTEE X. 



MOMENTOUS TEANSACTIONS. 

Canvassing Again — A Cruel Suspicion — A Dangekous 
Slide — Mechanical Skill — ^Trip to Wisconsin — Mercan- 
tile Pursuits — Marriage. 

CANVASSING AGAIN. 

In January, 1867, I accepted an appointment as 
general agent for the sale of Hassas & Liibrecht's Maps 
and Charts. My duties were to constitute local 
agents as well as to effect personal sales. For a part 
of the time m}^ cousin, John Fisher, was my partner, 
and afterward Fred. Umholtz shared in the venture. 
Good fortune crowned our efforts. In the following 
May I went on an excursion of business and pleasure 
to Clarion county again. Returning home, I obtained 
in June, from A. G. Campbell, of Berea, Ohio, a spe- 
cial agency for the sale of the American Practical 
Cyclopedia, a very large and comprehensive work, re- 
quiring much time and patience in the exhibition of 
its merits to purchasers. My partner in this enter- 
prise was F. H. Umholtz, a gentleman of rare talent 



MOMENTOUS TRANSACTIONS. ^'i'i 

and acquisitions. This venture riclily repaid us. lu 
one village our success was so great that the number 
of copies we sold there was one more than the entire 
number of families, A stranger visiting the town 
took the extra copy. 

A CRUEL SUSPICION. 

While emplo,yed on this agency an occurrence took 
place one day which made me the victim of a cruel 
suspicion. It happtuied as we were entering a house 
my partner, who was not overheard by any one else, 
alluded to certain pictures or military charts which he 
saw hanging against the wall. I heard enough from 
him to kno^v what the pictures were, for I had sold 
hundreds of them myself. One of them displayed 
Abraham Lincoln in the center, while around him 
were clustered, in artistic order, several of the dead 
generals of the civil war. The other one (for there were 
but two) represented Andrew Johnson in the center, 
with living generals grouped about him. Both charts 
were not only familiar to me, as I had handled them 
often, but I knew the place on the wall against which 
they were suspended. A little time after our en- 
trance into the house I engaged in conversation 
with its owner. Looking straight at the pictures, as 
though seeing them, I began to comment on the mas- 
sive brow of Gen. Sedgwick, and the bold martial 
bearing of Gen. Burnside, who was the finest horseman 
in the army. Having spoken in this way for a time 
and despatched the business that brought us there, we. 
12 



178 SILVER SHEAVES. 

took oiir leave. In passing out I did what I nearly 
always do on such occasions; being- in the rear of my 
guide, my hand fell naturally on the knob of the door; 
pulling the door to I left the premises with my com- 
panion. 

It is difficult fur me to express my sense of outrage 
and humiliation, when on the next day I learned that 
I had been shamming, to excite popular sympathy and 
thereby multiply our sales. M3' apparent survey of 
the chart and my minute statements in regard to their 
relative positions and details, combined with the readi- 
ness with which I closed the door, had started the false 
and cruel report which was then in circulation. Even 
the man with whom I had been boarding for a month 
was influenced to believe in the truth of this ground- 
less rumor. It was well for me that refutation of the 
most convincing character was near at hand. In 
cases where blindness is caused by disease ol' the optic 
nerve, the eye has a natural look except that the jjupii 
is unduly enlarged; but in my case, when the glasses I 
wore were raised, the evidence of blindness, caused by 
a rebel bullet, was too manifest to be disputed. Thus 
this cruel suspicion was stopped in its course before 
any real mischief was done, except to annoy me for 
a while in the keenest manner. 

Before this event took place I took great pains to do 
what I did in the most dexterous way of wliicli I was 
capable. I knew that the loss of one sense must result 
in the greater discipline and efficiency of the others, 
and to help me farther, there were scores of little tele- 



MOMENTOUS TRANSACTIONS, 179 

graphic signals employed by my partner and myself, 
and observed by no one else, by which many things 
came to my kno"\vledge in what outsiders would call 
a very singular manner. After the painful event 
which has been narrated I tried for a brief time to be 
Awkward and blundering in all my movements, but I 
soon became disgusted with this course and aban- 
doned it. I had acquired a certain degree of dex- 
terity in the different exercises in which I had played 
a part, and it was worse than folly to throw away 
the experience and teaching of years just because 
ignorance or envy had the power to fabricate false 
reports. 

A DANGEROUS SLIDE. 

In September, 1867, I paid another visit to Clarion 
county. On my return, which occurred the same fall, 
my father commenced the erection of a two story frame 
residence on his farm. The building jn-ogressed rap- 
idly, and at the time the accident took place, which I 
iim about to describe, the workmen had finished the 
roof on one side, and were just beginning on the other. 
The ladder was still on the finished side; and up this 
I clambered to take an observation. My friends had 
often warned me to keep away from places of peril, as 
my condition did not, in their judgment, warrant any 
such reckless temerity. Doubtless such warnings were 
very proper, and I ought to have been governed by 
them more frequently than I was; but being active 
and self-dependent, relying on my own resources with 



ISO SILVER SHEAVES. 

great confidence, I entertained the belief that I could 
go where any one else dared to venture. 

The workman had left one cleat near the comb of the 
roof on the side on which I was ascending. This cleats 
which formed a support for the feet, so that persons 
who were posted there would not slide down, was in a 
loose and dangerous condition. Tliis I did not observe 
until it was too late to avoid the catastrophe. The mo- 
ment my foot pressed, with considerable force, against 
this frail and imperfect support, all its fastenings gave 
way, and I began to slide, slowly but surely down the 
steeply inclined plane, which was formed by the roof. 
As soon as I felt myself sliding downward I began to 
use every means in my power, to retard or stop my 
descent, clinging as closely as possible to the roof. 
From the first I determined to raise no outcry for help. 
If I had done so relief would have come very speedily ; 
for at that very moment friends were at work only a 
few feet from me, on the other side of the roof. I con- 
cluded that as I had involved myself in this fearful 
danger, and had done so, too, in the face of repeated 
and impressive warnings, I would rely upon myself 
alone for deliverance. 

It is strange, however, that the thrilling struggle 
through which I was passing was not observed at all 
by witnesses. I could hear the men at their work 
close by, but I would not call on them for assistance. 
Sternly and silently, yet with palj)itating heart I feced 
the great peril, resolving to save myself if the means 
of safety were within my power. As stated before my 



MOMENTOUS TRANSACTIONS. 181 

progress down the roof was very slow, and every inch 
oftliis gradual descent was attended by a sensation of 
thrilling and torturing suspense, impossible of descrip- 
tion. I not only had friends on the liouse, but tliere 
were others on the ground, whose voices, raised in 
cheerful conversation, fell foniiliarly on my ears, as I 
was engaged in this terrible contest for life. They 
knew not of my danger. 

Thoughts come quickly in a crisis like this. The 
ground on that side of the house, on which I seemed 
<lestined to fall, was covered with rocks and heavy 
pieces of timber; and near these was a pump, on which, 
if I fell, my life would be crushed out beyond all hope 
■of restoration. From this great thought my mind re- 
verted to the ladder, which stood against the house. 
If my foot would strike, by good fortune, against this 
support, I felt that 1 would yet be saved; but, how 
was I to know that any such good fortune would be 
the result? I was not able to see the course I was 
taking. I might come in contact with the ladder, but 
there was a fearful possibility of missing it, and thus 
losing the last chance to regain my footing. The mo- 
ment came which was to decide my fate. I had done 
all I could to check my progress along this awful de- 
clivity. Instinctively I braced myself for the coming 
shock; and in that instant of supreme suspense, ray 
foot touched the ladder. The sense of relief that fol- 
lowed this chance movement, was changed into renewed 
agony, when I felt that the upper part of the ladder 
was slipping along the eaves, under tlie sliglit pressure 



182 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



that was applied. Certain it was that if tliis slipping" 
were to proceed much farther tlie ladder would be pre- 
cipitated to the earth, takino^ with it the last hope of 
rescue 1 could cherish. It was at this period that my 
feeling of suspense was the greatest. It was a moment 
indeed of absolute horror. I was hanging over a 
dreadful abyss; and inch by inch the sujjport to which 
I was clinging with desj^erate tenacity, was moving 
along the extremity of the roof. It stopped at last, as 
it struck against some very slight projection among the 
shingles. The instant I came to a halt in my thrilling 
journey, I managed, with effort, to take a knife from my 
pocket; and having opened it, I inserted the point of tlie 
blade in the roof, thus making myself secure in this posi- 
tion. I was then master of the situation. It did not take 
me long to adjust the ladder to its proper place. I was 
safe. This adventure was never known to my friends; 
I had my own motives for concealing it; but to this 
day a tingling sensation disturbs my nerves when I 
think of that frightful descent down the roof of my 
father's house. 

The winter of 1867-8 was occupied in a variety of 
ways. There were spellings, and singings, and relig- 
ious meetings, and parties of pleasure. Time passed 
very agreeably. During that winter, I visited my 
relatives at Shakelyville. In February, my father, 
who had been a widower for some years, was united in 
marriage to Lo\ina Ilhinehart. Anticipating an 
event of a similar kind in my own experience, 1 pur- 
chased for $500 a lot near my father's residence, con- 



MOMENTOUS TRANSACTIONS. 183 

taining five acres and embracing a lionse and fine 
orchard. This property I leased ont for a time. 

MECHANICAL SKILL. 

About this time, or perhaps a little before, I began 
to try my skill at certain mechanical creations. 
Believing that I had some talent in this direction, 
I went vigorously to work, and made a bureau. To 
give the reader some idea of this product of my handi- 
craft, I will state that it was two and a-half feet high 
and twenty-two inches Avide. It was composed of 
alternate stri|>s of black walnut and chestnut, the 
strips being two inches wide and glued togetlier. 
Mechanics will readily perceive that a work like this, 
if it be done well, requires much artistic skill. The 
fronts of the drawers were made of walnut, while the 
surrounding finish was composed of chestnut. Per- 
sons who were invited to see it agreed with each other 
in pronouncing it handsome. In this connection it is 
perhaps proper to state that a writing desk, which I 
made, drew a premium of $4.00 at the Shenango Val- 
ley Fair. 

TRII' TO WISCONSIN. 

In April, 1868, I employed Wm. Stevenson, for |8 
a month and expenses, to go with me to Wisconsin on 
a canvassing tour. I had obtained a general agency 
from the National Publishing Co., to sell Richardson's 
celebrated work, entitled " Beyond the Mississippi." 
Along with this, I sold copies of Beecher's "Nor- 



184 SILVER aH EAVES. 

wood." Our destination, or at least tlie headquarters 
we established, were at the residence of Mr. Hoylands, 
a brother-in-law of Mr. Stevenson. The personal 
resemblance between Mr. Hoylands and Gen. Grant 
was too striking to escape attention. Miss Terza 
Hoylands, daughter of the gentleman with whom we 
were stopping, was a young lady of rare genius and 
cultivation. Some of her poetical contributions are 
real gems, flashing with the light of true poesy. My 
sojourn with this family was very delightful. 

In the course of our excursions we had great busi- 
ness success at Monroe, Judea, and other places. We 
also visited Mineral Point and Darlington, where the 
extensive lead-mine region of Wisconsin opens its 
prosect before the gaze of the traveler. 

MERCANTILE PURSUITS. 

Returning in July to Greenville, I purchased there 
a confectionary store from Irvin Shade, taking my 
brother with me as an assistant. Sometime afterward 
I enlarged my stock of goods to a general assortment, 
embracing fruits and groceries. A good friend of 
mine, Wm. Waugh, largely benefitted me by his coun- 
sels and advice in regard to business. The purchase 
of my store was made August 1, 1868. 

MY MARRIAGE. 

My frequent visits to Clarion county foreshadowed 
an event which gives me infinite pleasure to record. 
Elsewhere my first introduction to Miss Florence 



MOMENTOUS TRANSACTIONS. ' 185 

McGinnis is described. The more I became acquainted 
with her tlie deeper was mj conviction that she was 
destined, in the order of a good and kind Providence, 
to become my wife. Whatever mistakes I may have 
made in reference to other subjects, I was sure that in 
regard to my contemplated marriage I had made a 
wise and happy clioice. To be the wife of a man sit- 
uated as I was, required certain elements of character 
which are not often found in society. Such elements, 
however, belonged to the one I chose, and I was about 
as happy a wooer as the state of Pennsylvania con- 
tained when the decisive "yes" was pronounced, and 
the day of our wedding was fixed. 

On that day, bi'ight and earl}^, being the 11th of 
August, I arose from my bed, and in tlie hurry of 
preparation for our departure my garments were thrown 
into disorder, and I happened to put on my vest wrong 
side out. Seeing me in this condition my friends 
rallied me without stint, predicting that some acci- 
dent would happen during the day to interfere with 
the proposed wedding in the evening. The ceremony 
was to be performed at Meadville, through which we 
were to pass in proceeding to Greenville. Seven 
miles of the route we had to traverse in a vehicle 
before reaching the station at which we were to take 
tlie cars. 

There were four of us who started in a bugg}' for 
Emlenton station, viz: Charles Shaner, my sister 
Lizzie, Florence and I. We had gone about a mile 
on our way when to the surprise and mortification 



186 SILVER SHEAVES. 

of the whole party an axle snddeuh' gave wa}^, stop- 
ping us in our course. The prediction uttered that 
morning seemed to be on its way to fulfillment, 
but I was determined to carry out our common pur- 
pose in spite of the accident. I proposed that if Mr. 
Shaner would remain to take care of the team and our 
baggage, the two ladies and myself would proceed to 
the station on foot. A general assent was given, and 
off we started in high spirits. The way was long, but 
we were equal to the emergency. Reaching an emi- 
nence overlooking the station, which was nearly half 
a mile away, we saw the train on which we were to go 
coming up to the depot. This sight accelerated our 
speed, causing us to perspire pretty freely. We ar- 
rived safely on time, but had barely seated ourselves 
in the cars when the train emerged from the station. 

Mr. Shaner did not join us on this trij). At seven 
o'clock p. M. of that day we arrived at Meadville. An 
hour later we proceeded to the residence in that city 
of Rev. Mr. Craighead, a Presbyterian minister, by 
whom the marriage ceremony was duly performed. 

August 24:th we established our residence on Race 
street, Greenville. I actively pursued the mercantile 
business until November 1st when I disposed of the 
store to Henry James, who subsequently proved a de- 
faulter, compelling me to suffer very serious losses. 

In December, 1869, I put up a store building on 
the property which I had purchased' near town, and on 
the 8th of January, 1870, commenced selling goods in 
this house. In April we received a visit from my 



MOMENTOUS TRANSACTIONS. 187 

brotlier-iii-law, J. W. McGinnis, who Avas a musician 
of fine attainments. In time I built an addition to 
the store; meantime we were settled in our new home, 
which was known by the name of Diamond Hill. 

In the multiplicity of other engagements, I under- 
took, about this time, to invent and make a Combina- 
tion Bureau and Book Case. This was an elaborate 
piece of mechanism, comprising many difficult details. 
This work I completed, and I will not be considered 
vain if I state here that my invention was compli- 
mented in high terms by connoisseurs in cabinet 
work. 

From the time at which I sold my store in Green- 
ville until the period wlien I established myself in the 
variety store at Diamond Hill, I was engaged gener- 
eraUy in the book trade, reaping quite a harvest of 
profit in the business. 

On the 6th day of November, 1869, our home in 
the country was gladdened by the advent of our fii-st 
boy. He came to us as a precious gift from our Father 
in Heaven, cheering and blessing our hearts by his 
prattle and innocent presence. 

In the fall of 18T0 I was impressed with a desire to 
go west. In obedience to this desire I soon disposed 
of our property, and on the first day of Is^ovember of 
the same year we bade adieu to the Keystone State 
and turned our faces toward the Great West. 



188 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



OHAPTEE XL 



LIFE IN THE WEST. 

Arrive in Des Moines — Society in Monroe — Engage in 
Merchandising — Building a 'House — Going East — Em- 
bark IN THE Music Business — Elected Alderman — Sad 
Tidings. 

arrive in des moines. 

After a few days journeying through the states of 
Ohio, Indiana, Michigan and Illinois, we crossed the 
grand old Mississippi at Davenjwrt into the beautiful 
state of Iowa with its broad prairies, stately groves of 
timber, and beautiful and enterprising cities and towns. 
We soon reached Des Moines, the capital of the state; 
here we found everything bustle and. activity. I called 
on Percival & Hatton, gentlemanly, obliging and very 
extensive real estate agents. In conversation with 
them I soon learned that all branches of business was 
well represented here, and that a man with small means 
would stand no chance, but they advised me to go to 
some of the smaller towns. Next morning we went 
to Monroe, thirty-two miles southeast of Des Moines. 
This beautiful place is situated on the divide near the 



LIFE IN THE WEST. 189 

center of the state; seven miles from the Skunk, and 
eight from the Des Moines river, is surrounded by fine 
belts of timber and inexhaustible beds of coal and fine 
building rock; has about eighteen hundred inhabitants, 
two railroads, one weekly newspaper, six churches and 
a host of whole souled enterprising citizens, business 
men and people generally. I was so much pleased 
with the town and its generous hearted people, that I 
decided to locate accordingly, ordered my goods from 
Des Moines and purchased a house and lot. In Jan- 
uary following I bought a grocery, boot and shoe store, 
of C. N. Hickox. In February I was elected member 
and president of the board of trustees of the Evangelical 
Church, which office I held for three consecutive years. 
February 21 our home was brightened by another lit- 
tle ray of sunshine, in the form of a tiny boy with 
hair and eyes like midnight. In March I sold my 
store to my brother, and engaged in the book business. 
In May I went to the southwestern part of the state, 
soliciting orders for the Franco Prussian "War, and 
Family Bible, with good success. Returned home in 
July. Continued in book business until October, when 
I erected an addition containing four apartments to 
my house. I mention this because I laid out and 
framed the building — when it was raised it all went to- 
gether without a single miscalculation. 

Rev. Mr. Hertzog, a neighbor of mine used to watch 
me at work day after day, and had a great curiosity to 
see it raised, but when it was done he pronounced it 
very good. I laid the floors, sided, hung the doors, 



190 SILVER SHEAVES. 

and in fact did all the work except a little lielp on the 
roof. I M'ill state that M'hile I enjoyed sight I had 
never seen a building laid out, much less worked on 
one. This addition being on two sides of the house, 
any mechanic M'ill readily see Avas difficult. During 
the winter I built a fine combination bureau, secretary 
and glass front library handsomely finished, which to 
this day is pronounced a fine specimen of workman- 
ship, even to those skilled in the art. 

In the spring of 1872 my eldest sister, Lizzie, came 
west to live with ns. Rev. A. C. Heckathorn, a rising 
young minister of the Evangelical Chnrch, made oni 
house his headcpiarters and we spent the summer in read- 
ing and improving property. In September I started 
Avith my family to visit our old homes. Spent the fall 
and winter very pleasantl}^ among relatives and friends 
in the great coal and oil regions of Pennsylvania. Re- 
turned in March, 1873, and purchased an organ of J. 
P. Corliss of Des Moines, u])on the following conditions : 
I paid him $50 down and gave my note for the balance, 
he giving me an agency to sell organs for him, the 
small commission which he would allow me on sales I 
made was to ap2:)ly on my note. I went to work, and 
before my note became due I had made sales sufficient 
that my commission more than paid my note. I liked 
the business so well that I determined to continue in 
it. I therefore received an agency of W. W. Kimball 
& Geo. Woods & Co., of Chicago, carrying as many 
organs in stock as my small room would hold. 

On locating in Monroe I had become a member of 



LIFE IX THE WEST. 



191 



the Evangelical Church ; I was now elected super- 
intendent of our Sahbath School, and President of the 
S. 8, Association. I have held and do at present hold 
official positions in religious, social and political or- 
ganizations. 

Kind readers, I do not mention this egotisticallj', but 
to demonstrate what an individual in my unfortunate 
•condition can do if he has the will. I have met so 
very many, some of whose atttiction is less grievous 
than mine, who have thrown themselves upon the char- 
ity of the public, and seem to think there is nothing 
they can do but sit down and bewail their misfortunes. 

In July my brother John, who had been staying 
with us was married. During this summer I worked 
faithfully at my business with good success. In the 
fall of 1874 I purchased j)i()perty of Mr. J. L. Scharf 
near the public square in order to get a better location 
for my business. After building an addition and 
otherwise improving I opened a general music store, 
keeping pianos, organs and all kinds of musical mer- 
chandise, and named my store "Monroe Music Em- 
porium." In the spring of 1875 at the caucus for 
nominating municipal officers I was nominated alder- 
man on the temperance ticket; this was done without 
my knowledge, and when informed of it next day was 
surprised to think that a person in my condition should 
be nominated for civil office. The temperance ticket 
was elected; the retiring officers M^ere for license. When 
\vc entered upon our duties in March we had an empty 
treasury and found a debt of $112. Besides, the re- 



192 SILVER SHEAVES. 

tiring council liad licensed the saloons three months 
on our time, liaving receiv^ed the money therefor. 
The cry of the license portion of the community was 
that the town could not be run without the license 
revenue. We kept up and made crossings, sidewalks, 
etc., beside some special improvements, and turned 
the city over to our successors free of debt and saloons 
and billiard halls, thus demonstrating that the gov- 
ernment of our cities and towns need not be depend- 
ent on whisky money, and that too without increasing 
taxation. 

SAD TIDINGS. 

In September I received the sad intelligence that 
my father Avas very sick. My sister immediately 
started for home. A few hours after we received a 
telegram that he was not expected to live. My brother 
John and I followed on the next train. When we 
reached Keokuk the eastern bound train which we 
were to take had left just a few minutes before. We 
had to wait until next train, and next morning we 
came to a train laying in a ditch, some of the cars 
literally smashed to splinters; that was the train we 
just missed. Our anxiety to reach our sick father 
was such that the moments we had to spend waiting 
for the train seemed like torturous hours, but as we 
looked upon this wreck it seemed that our delay was 
Providential. It is useless to try to describe my feel- 
ings when I reached my old home where my boyhood's 
happy days were spent and found my father very ill 



LIFE IN THE WEST. 



193 



with no hope of his recovery. This was the first time 
tliat all of our tamilj luid met together for five years, 
and sad as the occasion of this meeting w^as, it was a 
great comfort to my father to be surrounded by all of 
liis children once more, and for the last time on earth. 
He sufl'ered intensely, but patiently and resignedly, 
for over four weeks, when on the morning of October 
9th, just as the light was breaking, with one loving, 
lingering look upon us all as we stood around his bed, 
he passed peacefully and calmly away and joined my 
mother and little sisters in the bright, beautiful land. 
My father led an unostentatious, earnest Christian 
life ; he had not an enemy ; to know him was to love 
him; he was a kind and just father; his house was 
ever open to the weary traveler and stranger. 

Oh blessed is life when the warfare is ended, 

And the Comforter comes as the victor to save, 
And the soul follows after its Master ascending 

Victorious forever o'er death and the grave. 
And blessed was he when the summons was given, 

A friend and our father whose mission is done — 
Who triumphed before the bright portals of Heaven, 

And spoke of the glories salvation had won; 
Who left the glad witness — " Accepted 1 am. 

And on pinions elate 

I am sweeping the gate, 
Upborne by the love of the Lamb." 

We shall meet him no more in our unions forever, 
When the music of bells fills the air with delight — 

When the sunshine of evening fades soft on the river, 
Or sets the gold stars of the diademed night. 

His spirit no longer on wings of elation 
13 



194 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Awaits the sweet seal of the heavenly kiss, 
But passed in its rapture the gates of salvation, 

And now with the saints and the angels in bliss. 
He is safe by the throne of the mighty I am— 

On pinions elate 

He has swept the bright gate, 
And is singing the blood of the Lamb. 

A few davs after my fatlier's death m_y brother and 
I returned to our homes, and I set about adjusting my 
business which my unexpected absence had interfered 
with. Our Christmas and IN^ew Years present came 
to us on the 28th day of December, and was very 
highly appreciated, being our iirst and only daughter, 
a handsome, healthy little treasure. 

In Januarj^, 1876, my youngest brother, George, 
came to be a part of our family, and in June sister 
Ray came. In July my youngest sister, Allie, joined 
our household. When I left the old homestead, and 
knew tliat my brother and sisters would soon have to 
go out in the cold world among strangers, I told 
them they should share my home with me whenever 
and just as long as they wished to. To accommodate 
my now increased household it became necessary to 
have more house-room. In August I erected an 18x41 
two-story addition to my house, and finished the first 
floor finely for my store room. My business had in- 
creased to such an extent that I was now carrying a 
very large stock of musical goods. I remember of one 
w^eek that my sales amounted to two thousand dollars. 
From a very small beginning, by hard work, persever- 
ance and close attention to business, I had worked up 



LIFE IN THE WEST. 



195 



a very large trade. I had a great deal of oi^position 
to contend with, the worst of which was from unprin- 
cipled agents who were running over the country 
selling inferior instraraents, not hesitating to use any 
means, however unfair or dishonest, to deceive the 
people and accomplish their object, even going so far 
as to try to malign and blacken the character of hon- 
orable local dealers. The following is an instance, of 
which I could give ranny. I liad solicited an order 
for a Goodman cabinet pipe organ, from a gentleman 
near Prairie City. He desired me to get one built to 
order for him, which I agreed to do and deliver it in 
two months. Meantime one of those renegade agents, 
working for a firm then in Des Moines, hearing of 
this transaction, called on the gentleman two or three 
times and tried every means in his power to sell him 
one of his organs. He took one of the finest they had 
to his house and offered to give him fifty dollars to 
"go back on me " and purchase his. He said I could 
not and would not deliver the organ 1 had represented. 
When asked why, he said there was no such an organ 
company in existence; that the statements I made them 
were all false, for he knew me. The truth is, I had 
never spoken to this agent at all. When I delivered 
the organ, and while unpacking it, I heard such excla- 
mations as: "Why, yes, there are the pipes;" "yes, and 
there is the glass panel, ma," etc. My curiosity being 
aroused I finally asked what they meant, when they 
explained the occurrence I have just related. 

During leisure hours and odd moments I had been 



196 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



working on an invention, upon which, in June, 1877, 
I received letters patent. Said invention is known as 

" Sallada's Combina- 
tion Cupboard." It 
consists of two parts, 
and is detachable — 
each part comj)lete in 
itself. The combina- 
tion can be divided 
into five sections, and 
each section used in- 
dependent of the oth- 
er. All the drawers 
close air - tight, by 
means of rubber. The 
flour receptacles and 
victuals cupboard are 
provided with a d- 
justable ventilators. 
The wdiole combination contains thirty-six compart- 
ments, and only occupies 2x5 feet of space on the floon 




8AIiI,ADA''S COMBINATION CUPBOABD. 



ODE TO SALLADA'S COMBINATION CUPBOARD. 



BY REV. H. B. HARTZLER, CLEVELAND, O. 



A song like this was never sung 
By bird or beast or human tongue : 
It fits the time, it suits the season. 
Is full of sense and rhyme and reason, 

And keeps in tune, 

From March to June, 
Through winter snow and harvest moon. 



LIFE IN THE WEST. 

Here is a lasting- household joy, 

For daily service and employ; 

A handy, pretty, useful thing, 

Fit for the kitchen of a king: 

A Combination Cupboard, madam. 

Kept secret since the days of Adam. 

Here is room for fruits, and bread and pies, 

Secure against intrusive flies ; 

A place for butter, milk and flour — 

For hot or cold, for sweet or sour: 

A shelf for crystal, glass, or china, 

In easy reach of Dan or Dinah; 

And all as clean^ 

And neat, I ween. 
As any wife has ever seen. 

No less than sixteen drawers I see, 
■For sugar, coffee, spices, and tea; 
For knives and spoons and table covers. 
And dainty things for hungry lovers. 
For pills and powders there's a nook. 
For handled ware a handy hook; 
For dishes, pots and pans a place, 
With doors to close the ample space. 
And if the busy housewife wishes 
To bake her bread, or wash her dishes, 
She'll find a board and sink and tray. 
To keep her at it all the day. 

Then sing this song with hearty cheer : 
Proclaim the tidings far and near, 

In deed and word. 

With one accord, 
All hail this Combination Cupboard. 



197 



198 SILVER SHEAVES. 

In August, my youngest sister, Allie, was married 
to Mr. Howard, a wortliy young man and enterprising 
furniture dealer of Monroe, wliere they went to house- 
keeping in a pleasant little home of their own. In 
September, my wife's mother, Mrs. Mary McGinnis, 
of Pennsylvania, who had been spending the summer 
with us, returned to her home. In October, my wife's 
health failed, and for more than a year she was in 
very poor health, which was a great calamity to me. 
In ^November, sister Lizzie was married. The depart- 
ure of so many friends in so short a time, and my wife 
lying ill, I was for a time o'ershadowed with " clouds," 
but waited and hoped for the " sunshine " to come 
again. I was deprived of one great source of profit 
and pleasure — I refer to that of reading. We never let 
much time go by unimproved; for, when not otherwise 
employed, my wife would spend the time in the perusal 
of books, papers, etc. She is an elegant reader, and 
delights in reading as much as I do in hearing her read. 

In January, 1879, Mr. H. Mom-oe and Judge Max- 
well, temperance workers of Des Moines, came to 
Monroe, and began a series of meetings, which were 
continued for some time by J. Hardin, an eccentric, 
earnest worker, the pastors, and other workers of our 
city. We succeeded in procuring over 1,000 signatures 
to the pledge. I have in my mind now young men 
that were saved and reformed during that meeting who 
have since arisen to lucrative and honorable positions 
in the city. During my military career, and after I 
returned from the army, I had been addicted to tip- 



LIFE IN THE WEST. 199 

pling, or so-called moderate drinking, niitil about nine 
years ago I became awakened to the fact that it was 
an evil of no small magnitude; I finally resolved to 
abstain from all intoxicating drinks forever, and hope 
I shall yet see the day when this gigantic evil shall be 
eradicated from our land. 

In February, Eev. J. W. Todd, and Mell and F. C. 
Brown started an eight-page weekly newspaper, called 
" The Reform," devoted to temperance reform, public 
morals and local news. Mr. Todd was very desirous 
that I should take charge of and edit the paper; and 
after repeated solicitations I consented to do so. I 
was to receive one-fourth the receipts of the office as 
my compensation for managing and editing the paper. 
Everything went along pleasantly and smoothly in 
this, to me, new departure, until after a few months 
my wife took sick again, and, as she was my aman- 
uensis and proof-reader, I was compelled to resign my 
position. Thus ended my experience in the newspaper 
field. 

On the 25th of June, I received letters patent on 
the Sallada carpet fastener and stair rods, a novel 
device for stretching and fastening down carpet with- 
out tacks. With this device carpet can be put down 
in one-tenth the time required by the old metliod; it 
obviates the injury carpet and floor sustain by the use 
of tacks; it entirely conceals the edge of carpet and 
gives a most elegant finish to the apartment; is easily 
adjusted to any sized room, and can be loosened in two 
or three minutes for sj)eedy removal, as in case of fire. 



20i) 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



The fastener ])ossesses many novel features, which 
combined develop the true scientific principle of fast- 
ening down carpet. 




LIFE IN THE WEST. 



SOI 



Oar stair rod, is in principle of construction and 
peculiar adaptability to the purpose desired, the most 
convenient, durable and liandsome rod ever placed on 
the market. 

Intending to go into the manufacture of these goods, 
I sold out my 2:)ropertj and store to Messrs. Craft & 
Brown. 

August 31, 1878, another sweet little cherub of a 
boy was added to our family. 

My brother-in-law, Mr. Charley McGinnis, came 
from the East, and was so well pleased with the coun- 
try and the business I was embarking in, that he con- 
cluded to remain, and entered into partnership with 
me in the manufacture of carpet fasteners and stair 
rods. 

Craft & Brown being unable to meet their obliga- 
tions, the property now came back to me. The few 
remaining musical goods I sold to a firm in Grinnell, 
at a tremendous sacrifice, and in September, I traded 
my property to Mr. J. J. Towne, of the Yallej Bank, 
Des Moines, for property there, in order to have better 
manufacturing facilities and location; and, in Novem- 
ber, bid adieu to Monroe and the manj^ good, kind 
friends I had made during my eight years residence 
there, and took up my abode in the enterprising, flour- 
ishing city of Des Moines. 

During the time I was engaged in the mercantile, 
book and music business, I had very good success. I 
have sustained the loss of over two thousand dollars 
in the past few months, whicli was in notes well 



202 SILVER SHEAVES 

secured and seemed perfectly i^ood, but when the 
securities found that the principals would fail to meet 
their payments they then mortgaged their property to 
friends before the notes became due, thus leaving me 
without any recourse. My experience is, that while 
sympathy has been freely extended, I have found in 
every community and society those who seize every 
opportunity to take advantages that will result in their 
personal gain, no matter who suffers by it. I have 
learned that in oi*der to keep pace with the spirit of 
the times, in this fast age, we have each got to paddle 
our own canoe. 

Hoping that I may have said something in the pre- 
ceding pages to inspire you, my reader, with new hope 
and greater zeal and perseverance amid the trials and 
afflictions of life, and that after this life is over, we 
may meet where the "sunshine is never marred by 
clouds," we will bid adieu to the stern realities of life, 
and wander for awhile through the poetical field of 
" Silver Sheaves." 



fSf{¥ ^i{doK?). 



Miscellaneous Collection. 



MlSOELLAl^EOUS COLLEOTIOI^ 



PROSE AND POETRY. 



SOLILOQUY OF THE AUTHOE OF SILVER 
SHEAVES. 

BY W. W. FINK. 

What then is blindness? This and nothing more: 
The window blinds are closed, the outer door 
Close shut and bolted and the curtains drawn : 
jSTo more comes light of stars nor morning's dawn, 
Nor one lone ray from day's meridian light, 
And men pass by and say, " "Within is night." 
Not so; for memory's lamp, with steady blaze. 
Shines on the hallowed scenes of other days. 
While fancy's torch, prophetic, flashing through 
The vistas of the future, brinsrs to view 
Scenes passing strange, but scenes that yet^hall be, 
Which I can see, and Avhich he cannot see 
Whose dazzled orbs find nothing hid away 
Beyond the brilliant margin of to-day. 



206 SILVER SHEAVES. 

To me the radiant world forever gleams 

With the rich halo of my boyish dreams; 

The faces I have loved no wrinkles know; 

My dear one's eyes ne'er lose their cherished glow; 

The hair of gold ne'er turns to silver hair; 

The young are young, the fair are always fair. 

With reason strengthened, feelings more intense, 

The senses, multiples of former sense. 

Vicarious servants for dead sight become. 

I see the city in the city's lium ; 

I catch its subtle undertone of trade; 

I hear of fortunes lost and fortunes made, 

In sounds to him a mystery profound. 

Who, seeing, knows not vision muffles sound. 

Go to the forest on a summer's day, 

To some lone quiet nook where mossy pillows 

Invite to dreamy wakefulness; now lay 

Thyself beneath this canopy of willows, 

And, gazing lazily among the trees 

Whose leaves no quiver show of passing breeze, 

Take note how silence reigns. The drowsy world 

Seems wrapped in slumber; e'en the brook lies curled 

And sleeping among shadows cool and deep. 

Now close thine eyes and listen; closely keep 

Thy soul responsive to thy listening ear. 

Hark to the sounds! Soft, musical and clear, 

Some insect beauty rings her silver bell 

Within her grotto of an acorn shell. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 



207 



While e'en the brook, deep sleeping at thy feet, 
Moans in its slumbers monrnfullj and sweet ; 
And, as the sense intenser grows, there comes 
The sound of bees through linden blossoms humming. 
Upon his bark-guitar the woodcock strums 
Responsive to the pheasant's distant drumming. 

If, then, this act of self-dismissing sight. 
With lids which only half obscure the light. 
Brings sounds to thee thou couldst not hear before 
When vision guided thought, then how much more 
Distinct to him must sound become to whom 
Life walks in darkness — call it not in gloom, 
'Tis only an exchange of good for good, 
A new plant growing where the old one stood. 
Old blesssings taken and new blessings given; 
Sweet compensation, thou wert born in heaven! 

There is no silence unto him whose soul 
In darkness sits and listens. Like a scroll 
On which the secrets of the world are traced, 
Blindness is but a sea-shell kindly placed 
Beside the ear, and from its varying tone. 
Who will may make life's secrets all his own. 

And thus misfortunes bless, for blindness brings 

The j)Ower to pierce the depths of hidden things, 

To walk where reason and fair fancy lead, 

To read the riddle of men's thoughts, to read 

The soul's arcana in each subtl'r tone. 

And make man's joys and sorrows all my own. 



208 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Nor can I sit repining at my lot 
As bitter and unjust, nor curse tiie shot 
Whicli tore away my sight. The world is kind 
And gentle to her sons. Though I am blind, 
Smooth paths of enterprise have always stood 
Open for me, and, doing what I could 
With hand or brain, with simple earnestness. 
Have gathered what was due me of success. 

Oh, ye who sit in darkness, moaning o'er 
Thy dead and vanished vision, mourn no more! 
Keep in the current. Be thou brave and strong. 
The busy world is singing. Join the song; 
And thou shalt find, if thou no duty shirk. 
Who will may prosper if he do but work. 



NATIVITY. 



No war or battle sound. 
Was heard the world around; 

The idle spear and shield were high up hung, 
The hooked chariot stood 
Unstained with hostile blood; 

The trumpet spake not to the armed throng, 
And kings sat still, with awful eye. 
As if they surely knew their Sovereign Lord was by. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 209 

But peaceful was the night 
AVherein the prince of li^ht 

His reign of peace npon the earth began; 
The winds, with wonder whist, 
Snioothlj the waters kist. 

Whispering new joys to tlie mild ocean, 
Who hath now quite forgot, 
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charm'd wave. 

The stars, with deep amaze. 
Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, 

Bending one way tlieir precious influence; 
And will not take their flight 
For all their morning light, 

Or Lucifer, that often warned them tlience; 
But in their glimmering orbs did glow 
Until their Lord Himself bespake and bid them go. 

And though the shady gloom 
Had given day her room, 

The sun himself withheld his wonted speed. 
And hid his head for shame 
As his inferior flame 

Tlie new enlightened world no more should need; 
He saw a greater Sun appear 
Than his bright throne or axel-tree could bear. 

The shepherds on the lawn, 
Or e'er the point of dawn. 

Sat simply clothed in a rustic row; 
Full little thought they then 
14 



210 SILVER SHEAVES. 

That tbe miglity Dan 

Was kindly come to live with them below; 
Perhaps their love, or else their sheep, 
Was all that did their silly thoughts too busy keep. 

When such music sweet 
Their hearts and ears did greet, 

As never was by mortal finger struck; 
Divinely warbled voice 
Answering the stringed noise, 

As all their souls in blissful rapture took; 
The air such pleasure loth to lose, 
With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly 
close. 

At last surrounds their sight, 
A globe of circular light. 

That with long beams the shame -faced night arrayed; 
The helmed cherubim 
And sworded seraphim, 

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed; 
Harping in loud and solemn choir. 
With unexpressive notes to heaven's new-born heir. 

Such music as 'tis said 
Before was never made, 

But when of old the sons of morning sung; 
While the Creator great 
His constellations set. 

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung; 
And cast the dark foundation deep, 
And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 211 

Hing out, ye crystal spheres; 
Once bless our human oars, 

If ye have power to touch our senses so; 
And let your silver chime 
Move in melodious time, 

And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow; 
And with your nine-fold harmony 
Make up full concert to the angelic symphony. 

For if such holy song 
Enwrap our fanc}'^ ^ong, 

Time will run back and fetch the age of gold; 
And speckled vanity 
Will sicken soon and die, 

And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould; 
And hell itself will pass away 
tVnd leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 

Yea, Truth and Justice then 
Will down return to men. 

Orbed in a rain-bow; and like glories wearing, 
Mercy will sit between, 
Throned in celestial sheen; 

With radiant feet the tissued cloud down steering 
And heaven, as at some festival, 
Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. 



212 



SILVER SHEAVES. 

STANZAS ON MEMOEY. 

Oh 'tis a calm, a glorious night, 

A night that seemeth given 
To call my thouglits from earth away, 

And woo me unto heaven. 
From yon deep azure vault the snow 

In silence rolleth on; 
I bow my head, and dreamily 

I muse on years agone. 

Oh memory! majestic power! 

A monarch grand thou art; 
Thou hast a throne of giant size 

AVithin the human lieart. 
There's not a soul that breathes but owns 

Thy firm unwavering sway; 
Thou briugest tears to the broken heart, 

Smiles to the glad and gay. 

To-niglit thou'st led me back again 

To childhood's sunny hours, 
That golden age when life seemed but 

A pathway bright with flowers. 
But sorrow's cloud stole o'er the sky 

That had been ever l)right; 
Alone — in anguisli then I met 

Despair's dark moonless night. 

(^h none were near to whisper words 

.Of comfort or of love; 
My grief was only known to one, 

The God in heaven above. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 213 

ONE BY ONE. 

One by one the years are glidina; 

Down the distant slope of time, 
Leaving traces of their footprints 

In every land and clime; 
Traces that we'll ere remember 

In ourwearyjonrney on 
Life's pilgrimage of hopes and fears, 

That arise and fall anon, 

One by one life's dearest treasures 

That enrapt our soul with joy, 
And afford ecstatic pleasures 

Sink into its base alloy. 
Perish like the golden beS,uties 

Of the silent hour of even' 
Fade amid the coming twilight 

In the starry dome of heaven. 

One by one the friends we cherish. 

Youthful hearts with us allied, 
Like the transient flowers wither, 

And we miss them from our side. 
Miss them in the joyous langhter, 

And the sunlight of their faee; 
The music of those happy voices 

Lingers not one single trace. 

One by one the links are severed 
That enchain us to the jDast; 



214 SILVER SHEAVES. 

And more potent the enchantment 
Which memories o'er us cast; 

Memories on whose golden pinions 
Fly we back in joy and pain 

To those scenes of saddened pleasure, 
And we liv^e them o'er again. 



THOU ART GOD ALONE. 

While standing on tlie ocean's shore ' 

And gazing o'er the deep, 
Watching the billows' seething foam, 

While stoi'ms their revel keep, 
My soul is filled with solemn awe 

While listning to their tone, 
And David's words come o'er my mind, 

"Lord, Thou art God alone." 
In all of nature's mighty works. 

The forest's gloomy shade. 
The giant mountains' granite sides, 

All nature's vast arcade — 
Thy praise in many a varied way 

To speak, are ever pi*one. 
We listning hear it all around. 

Yes, "Thou art God alone." 
Thou 'gravest it in living words 

Upon our inmost soul, 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 215 

While dire misfortune's blast is heard, 

And clouds of anguish, 
From out the thick and iriurky clouds, 

We hear Thy gentle tone, 
"Fear not I'm with thee to the end, 

For I am God alone." 
Take courage trembling, fearful saint. 

Though hosts of hell combine. 
The Lord of Heaven is God alone, 

That God is ever thine. 
He'll shield and guide thee, by and by 

Will claim thee as his own; 
When nature sinks He'll raise thee up. 

For He is God alone. 



THE BLACKSMITH'S STORY. 

Well, no! My wife aint dead, sir, but I've lost her all 

the same; 
She left me voluntarily, and neither was to blame. 
It's rather a queer story, and I think you will agree — 
When you hear the circumstances — 'twas rather rough 

on me. 
She was a soldier's widow, he was killed at Malvern 

Hill; 
And when I married her, she seemed to sorrow for 

him still, 



21() SILVER SHEAVES. 

But 1 brought her here to Kansas. I never want to see 

A better wife than Mary was, for five briglit years to nie. 

Tlie change of scene brought cheerfubiess, and soon a 
rosy glow 

Of liappiness warmed Mary's cheeks and melted all 
their snow. 

] think she loved me sonic, I'm bound to think that 
of her, sir, 

And as for me, I can't begin to tell how I loved her. 

Three years ago the baby came our humble home to 
bless. 

And then I reckon I was nigh to perfect happiness. 

'Twas her's, 'twas mine, but I've no language to ex- 
plain to you 

How that litttle girl's weak fingers our hearts together 
drew. 

Once we watched it through a fever; and with each 
gasping breath. 

Dumb with an awful worldless woe, we waited for its 
death. 

And though I am not a pious man, our souls to- 
gether there, 

For Heaven to spare our darling, went up in voiceless 
prayer. 

And when the doctor said 'twould live, our joy what 
words could tell; 

Clasped in each other's arms, our grateful tears to- 
gether fell. 

Sometimes, you see, the shadow fell across our little 
nest, 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 217 

But it only made the sunshine seem a doubly welcome 
guest. 

AVork came to me plenty, and I kept the anvil ringing; 

I'];u'ly and late youxl see me there a hammering and 
singing. 

Love nerved my arm to labor, and turned my tongue 
to song, 

And though my singing wasn't sweet, it was almighty 
strong. 

One day a one-armed stranger stopj^ed to have me nail 
a shoe, 

And while I was at work we passed a compliment or two. 

I asked him how he lost his arm, he said 'twas shot 
away 

At Malvern Hill. "At Malvern Hill! Did you know 
Robert May?" 

'"That's me!" said he. "You! You!" I gasped, chok- 
ing with horrid doubt, 

"If you're a man, just follow me; we'll try this mys- 
tery out." 

With dizzy steps I led him to Mary. God! 'Twas true! 

Then the bitterest pangs of misery unspeakable I knew. 

Frozen with deadly horror, she stared with eye of stone, 

And from her quivering lips there broke one wild, 
despairing moan. 

"'Twas he! the husband of her youth, now risen from 
the dead, 

But all too late!" and with that bitter cry her senses 
fled. 



218 SILVER SHEAVES. 

AVhat could be done; he was reported dead. On his 

return 
Ho strove in vain some tidings of his absent wife to leani. 
'Twas well that he was innocent, else /'cZ have killed 

him too, 
So dead he never would have riz till Gabriel's trumpet 

blew. 
It was agreed that Mary then between us should decide, 
And each by her decision would sacredly abide. 
^o sinners at the judgment seat waiting eternal doom 
Could suffer what I did while waiting sentence in that 

room. 
Rigid and breathless there we stood, with nerves as 

tense as steel. 
While Mary's eyes sought each white face in piteou.s 

appeal. 
God ! Gould not woman's duty be less hardly reconciled 
Between her lawful husband and the father of her child? 
Ah, how my heart was chilled to ice w'hen she knelt 

down and said, 
"Forgive me, John! He is my husband! Here, alive 

not dead." 
I raised her tenderly and tried to tell her she was right, 
But somehow in my aching breast the prisoned words 

stuck tight. 
"But, John, I can't leave baby." "What! wife and 

child," cried I 
" Must I yield all? Ah, cruel! Better that I should die. 
Think of the long, sad lonely hours waiting in gloom 

for me; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 219 

No wife to cheer me with her love, no babe to climb 

my knee. 
And yet you are her mother, and the sacred mother love 
Is still the pnrest, tenderest tie that Heaven ever w^ove. 
Take her, but promise, Mary, for that will bring no 

shame, 
My little girl shall bear, and learn to lisp her father's 

name." 
It may be, in the life to come I'll meet my child and 

wife. 
But yonder by the cottage gate we parted for this life. 
One long hand clasp from Mary, and my dream of 

love was done; 
One long embrace from baby, and my happiness was 

irone. 



I'LL KNOW THEE THERE. 

Pale star, that with thy soft, sad light, 

Came out upon my bridal eve, 
I have a song to sing to-night. 

Before thou takest thy mournful leave; 
Since then so softly time has stirred. 

That months have almost seemed like hours; 
And I am like a little bird, 

That slept too long among the flowers ; 
And waking, sits with waveless wing, 

Soft singing 'mid the shades of even'; 



220 SILVER SHEAVES. 

But, oh! with sadder heart I sing — 
I sing of one wlio dwells in heaven. 

The winds are soft, the clouds are few, 

And tenderest thought my heart beguiles; 
As floating np through mist and dew, 

The pale young moon comes out in smiles; 
And to the green resounding shore. 

In silvery troops the riplets crowd; 
Till all the ocean dimpled o'er, 

Lifts up its voice and laughs aloud; 
And star on star, all lost and calm. 

Floats np yon arch serenely blue. 
And lost to earth and steeped in balm. 

My spirits float in ether, too. 

Loved one! though lost to human sight, 

I feel thy spirit lingering near; 
And, softly— as 1 feel the light 

That trembles through the atmosphere. 
As in some temple's holy shades. 

Though mnte the hymn and hnshed the prayer, 
A solemn awe the soul pervades, 

Which tells that worship has been there; 
A breath of incense, left alone. 

Where many a censer swung around; 
Which thrills the wanderer, like to one 

Who treads on consecrated ground. 

I know thy soul from worlds of bliss, 
Yet stoops awhile to dwell with me; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 221 

Hath caught the prayer I have breathed in this; 

That I at least might dwell with thee; 
I hear a murmur from the seas, 

That thrills me like the spirit's sighs; 
I hear a voice on every breeze, 

That makes to mine its low replies — 
A voice all low and sweet like thine! 

It gives an answer to my prayer, 
And brings my soul from heaven a sign 

That I will know and meet thee there. 

I'll know thee there by that sweet face, 

'Round which a tender halo plays. 
Still touched with that expressive grace 

That made thee lovely all thy days ; 
By that sweet smile tliat o'er it shed 

A beauty like the light of even', 
Whose soft expression never fled, 

Even when its soul had fled to heaven. 
I'll know thee by thy starry crown, 

That glitters in thy raven hair; 
Oh, by these blessed signs alone 

I'll know thee there! — I'll know thee there. 

For, ah! thine eye, within whose sphere 

The greatest youth and beauty met. 
That swam in love and softness here, 

Must swim in love and softness yet; 
For, Oh! it's dark and liquid beams. 

Though gladdened by a thousand sighs, 



222 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Xever holier than the light that streams 
Down from the gate of Paradise — 

Were bright and radiant like the moon, 
Yet soft and dewy as the eve; 

Too sad for eyes where smiles are born, 
Too young for eyes to learn to grieve. 

I wonder if this cold, sweet breeze 

Hath touched thy lips and fanned thy brow; 
For all my spirit hears or sees, 

Recalls thee to my memory now; 
For every hour we breathe apart 

Will but increase. If that be 
The love that fills this lonely heart, 

Already filled so full of thee; 
Yet many a tear these eyes must weep, 

And many a sin must be forgiven. 
Ere these pale lids shall sink to sleep. 

And you and I shall meet in Heaven. 



ALICE CAEY'S SWEETEST POEM. 

Of all the beautiful pictures 

That hang on memory's wall, 
Is one of a dim old forest. 

That seemeth best of all. 
Not for its gnarled oaks olden, 

Dark with the mistletoe; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 223 

Not for the violets golden, 

That sprinkle the vale below; 
Not for the milk-white lillies, 

That lean from the fragrant hedge, 
Coquetting all day with the sunbeams, 

And stealing their golden edge; 
Not for the vines on the uplands. 

Where the bright red berries rest; 
Not for the pinks, nor the pale, sweet cowslips, 

It seems to me the best. 

I once had a little brother, 

With eyes that were dark and deep — 
In the lap of that olden forest 

He lieth in peace asleep. 
Liffht as the down on the thistle, 

Free as the winds that blow. 
We roved there the beautiful summers. 

The summers of long ago; 
But his feet on the hills grew weary. 

And one of the autumn eves, 
I made for my little brother 

A bed of yellow leaves. 

Sweetly his pale arms folded 

My neck in a meek embrace, 
As the light of immortal beauty 

Silently covered his face; 
And when the arrows of sunset 

Lodged in the tree-tops bright, 



224 SILVER SHEAVES. 

He fell, in bis saint-like beauty, 
Asleep by tlie gates of Liglit. 

Tberefbre, of all tbe pictures 
Tbat bang on memory's wall, 

Tbe one of tbe dim old forest 
Seemetb best of all. 



THE FUTURE OF AMEPJCA. 

BY A. P. DUTCHEE, M. D. 

This is a grand problem! If we could unseal tbe 
book of God's decree its solution would be easy. 

Altliougb we cannot read tbe folded leaves of tbis 
book, yet we may gatber mucb from tbe bistory of tbe 
past and tbe cbaracter of our people, tbat will aid us 
greatly in our work. From a careful study of our bis- 
tory, we cannot repress tbe conviction tbat our land is 
destined to be tbe ligbt of tbe world; and ber people, 
if true to tbemselves, a blessing to mankind. Her be- 
ginning, ber advancement, and ber institutions, are so 
many tokens tbat tbe time-worn tilings of caste will 
vanisb from ber preseiice, and j^obtical and religious 
freedom reign supremely in tbeir stead. 

Wbat a glorious future awaits tbis favored land. 
Some one bas said tbat " war is an antiquated pageant." 
Man may never surpass tbe Macedonian, tbe Roman, 
or tbe Corsican, in feats of valor; but bere is a field 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 225 

almost without competitors, of love and mercy. Its 
trophies are not banners wrested from a bleeding foe, 
nor territory grasped by conquering hands, but the 
blessings of the nations. Wherever the Star-spangled 
Banner floats on the breeze the poor shall hail it as the 
flag of freedom, and all the oppressed bless it as the 
symbol of deliverance. America shall be earth's 
asylum. If famine or pestilence waste distant isles or 
remote climes, the stricken shall turn to her, and never 
in vain. Light shall go forth from her to the be- 
nighted, bread to the hungry, succor to the distressed, 
help to all mankind. What a noble destiny! And 
we, of all nations, are in the best condition for reach- 
ing it. ^ Would that the national heart and conscience 
were thoroughly prepared for it! Would that this 
may become the end and aid of the administration of 
our national affairs, and the united endeavors of the 
whole people of the land. Then might we hope for 
permanent greatness, for nothing so binds a people 
together as morality and religion. The history of the 
past furnishes ample testimony on this point. Thus 
the Roman Empire was the product of the religions 
sentiment of the people, and it was the most abiding. 
It endured for centuries, while the Macedonian, framed 
9nly by war, perished at the death of its founder. 

In modern times, Sweden never assumed so liigh a 
rank as when under the lion-hearted A.dolphus, she 
stood the bulwark of the Protestant faith. Spain at- 
tained her highest glory when arrayed against the 
Moors. England may date her advancement from 
15 



226 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Oomwell, who placed her in the front rank of Protest- 
antism. In these cases error and truth were mingled, 
and could not therefore form a perfect union. There 
was a fatal element which hastened their decay. That 
element was war, and it sapped the life. England 
alone yet lives, and she is crippled and exhausted by 
the disease engendered by war, so that the prodigious 
energy of the vital principal in her alone saves her 
from dissolution. 

But the most remarkable of the power of religious 
bonds is seen in the case of the Jews. Exiles without 
home or country, they are still one people, because of 
one faith. They are, and always have been, a people 
of destiny. And what a j)rofound impression they 
have made upon the world! Conquered and despised, 
they have yet given their sacred books to their con- 
querors. Moses and the Prophets are read in costly 
cathedrals and churches, across wliose threshhold the 
Jew may not pass; and the nation lives in faith, strong 
in destiny, while other kingdoms pass off into ob- 
livion. 

Give, then, this idea to our land and it will live, and 
the next Centennial will be more glorious than this. 
It is time we are many tribes, divided in many States, 
and can continue one only as we are one in purpose and 
destiny. Let this destiny be worthy of us and we can 
never be destroyed. Let it be an holy end wliich ■will 
elevate every man, and purifj^ each heart and conscience. 
Then it will be an unbroken band of union, and each 
citizen will feel himself clothed with high responsibil- 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 227 

ity, as a member of a state whose divine distinction is 
one of loving kindness and mercy to mankind. The 
l>ible, h'ke the ark and tabernacle in the wilderness, will 
bo the grand central point of atti'action, and all the 
tribes marslialled around it will move by its summons, 
and cleave together because one power controls them. 
This is a destiny peculiarly fitted to the charac- 
ter of our institutions. The despot dare not attempt 
to accomplish it. It would tear up the foundations of 
his throne, it must be done by a people among whom 
all are free to thiidc and act, and where all may labor 
for its accomplishment. Let it fill the mind and 
lieart of the nation and each individual may do his 
part. No one so poor and humble as not to be able to 
otfect something toward this noble end. The states- 
)nan in the hall of legislation, with eloquent lips and 
discerning wisdom, may build up a new frame of pol 
icy, bo'unded upon principles of justice and piety, and 
affording a sure refuge to earth's long oppressed 
and degraded nations. The guardians of the press, 
that mighty engine of good or evil, shaking ofi* politi- 
cal bigotry and partisan proscription may make it the 
organ of truth, the servant of mankind and not the 
slave of faction. The minister of God may from every 
altar publisli peace and salvation. The teacher of 
youth may train children for useful action and benev- 
olent enterprise. The man of business may devote 
liimself to commerce or manufactures, not to hoard 
or to squander his gains, but to consecrate them to 
God, his country and the world. The mother in her 



228 SILVER SHEAVES, 

retirement as she bends over her babe and teaches his 
infant lips to pray, may aid in rearing a people worthy 
of our destiny. The reaper on the wide prairie of the 
West, while he binds his golden shea/es, the distant 
emigrant by the Ilocky Mountains or the Pacific slopes^ 
the sailor as he launches on the Atlantic or Pacific? 
wave, one and all, the people, the whole people, may 
thus move on by one impulse and labor by one destiny^ 
and make our land the light of nations diffusing over 
the earth the mingled radiance of peace, liberty and 
religion. 



GOD. 

O thou Eternal One! whose presence bright 
All space do occupy, all nations guide; 

Unchanged through time's all devastating flight; 
Thou only God ! there is no God beside. 

Being above all beings! Mighty One! 

AVhom none can comprehend and none explore. 

AVho fillest existence with thyself alone, 
Embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er, 
Peing whom we call God and know no more, 

In its subline research, philosophy 

May measure out the ocean deep; may count 

The sands, or the sun rays, but God, for Thee 

There is no weight nor measure. None can mount 

Up th}^ mysteries. Reason's brightest spark 
Though kindled by the lights, in vain would try 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 



229 



To trace thy counsels infinite and dark; 

And thought is lost ere thought can soar so high, 
Even like past moments in eternity. 

Thou from primeval nothingness didst call, 
First chaos, then existence. Lord on Thee 

Eternity has its foundation; all 

Spring forth from Thee; of joy, light, harmony, 

Sole origin — all life, all beauty thine. 

Thy word created all space with rays divine; 

Thou art and wert and shall be glorious, great, 

Life giving, life sustaining potentate. 

Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround, 

Upheld by Thee, by Thee inspired by breath. 
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound 

And beautifully mingled life and death. 
As sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze, 

So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from Thee, 
And as the spangles in the sunny rays 

Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry 
Of heaven's bright array glitters to thy praise. 

A million torches lighted by thy hand 

Wander unwearied through the blue abyss, 
They own thy power, accomplish thy command; 

All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss, 
What shall we call them, piles of crystal light, 

A glorious canopy of golden streams, 
Lamps of celestial ether, burning bright 

Suns lightning systems with their joyous beams? 
But thou to these art as the moon to nisfht. 



230 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Yes ! as a drop of water on the sea, 

All this magnificieiice in Thee is lost! 
What are a million worlds compared with Thee. 

And what am I then? Heaven's unnumbered host, 
Thoug'li multiplied by myriads and arrayed 

In all the glory of sublimest thought, 
Is but an atom in the balance weighed 

Against thy greatness, is a cipher brought 

Against infinity! What am I, then? Naught. 

Xaught, but the effulgence of tliy light divine. 

Pervading worlds hath reached my bosom too: 
Yes! in my spirit doth thy spirit shine, 

As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew. 
Naught but I live, and on hope's pinions fly 

Eager toward thy presence, for in Thee 
I live and breathe and dwell; spring high, 

Even to the throne of thy divinity 

I AM, O God! and even thou must be. 

Thou art directing, guiding all, thou art. 

Direct my understanding then to Thee; 
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart; 

Though but an atom 'midst immensity, 
Still I am something fashioned by thy hand; 

I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth; 
On the last verge of mortal being stand, 

Close to the realms where angels have their birth, 
Just on the boundaries of the spirit land. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 231 

The chain of being is complete in me; 

In me is matter's last gradation lost, 
And the next step is spirit, Deity. 

I can command the lightning, and am dust, 
A monarch and a slave, a man, a God! 

Whence came I here and how so marvelously 
Constructed, and conceived? This clod 

J.ives through some higher energy, 

Fur from itself it could not be. 

Creator? Yes! thy wisdom and thy word 
Created me, thou source of life and good! 

Thou spirit of my spirit and my Lord 

Thy light, thy love, in all their brightest plentitude. 



THEUE REMAINETH THEREFORE REST. 

Watchman, are you growing weary. 

Watching night and watching day? 
Do the hours seem long and dreary 

Till the shadows clear away? 
Grasp the standard, hold it tighter. 

Meet the foe 'midst shot and shell; 
Heavenly rest will be the lighter 

If you do your duty well. 

Burdened heart, by sorrow shaken, 

Left alone in tears to grieve, 
I>y the friends of youth forsaken 

Whom you dreamed would never leave, 



232 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Let your hopes be centered only 
On the Saviour's changeless love! 

There's a rest for all the lonely 
In the heavenly horae above. 

Christian, are thy crosses growing 

Heavier, and the journey long? 
Art thou saddened with the knowing 

Right is conquered by the wrong? 
Strive a little longer, bearing 

All, though drooping sj^irits mourn; 
Crowns will be more worth the wearing 

If the cross is only borne. 

Brothers, sisters, toiling, praying, 

Seeking for the higher rest! 
Oh, the joy of weary laying 

Ever on the Saviour's breast, 
Where the severed friends are meeting, 

I^^ever more to parted be. 
Where the angels shout their greeting 

All across the deeper sea. 

Here is but the time of testing, 

Time of battle, tears and pain ; 
There the joy of sweetly resting, 

Never more to toil again. 
Let us then bear all the sorrow 

God shall deem it wise and best; 
Soon will dawn the glorious morrow 

With the sweet eternal rest. 



MSICELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 233 

PAUL KEYEKE'S EIDE. 

BY H. \V. LONGFELLOW. 

The Battle of Lexington^ Ajpril 19, 1775. 

Listen, mj children, and you shall hear 
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 
On the eighteenth of April seventy -five. 
Hardly a man is now alive 
Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend: " If the British march 

By land or sea from the town to-night, 

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 

Of the north church-tower, as a signal light — 

One if by land, and two by sea — 

xVnd I on the opposite shore will be 

Ready to ride and spread the alarm 

Through every Middesex village and farm, 

For the country folk to be up and arm." 

Then he said " good night," and with muffled oar 

Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore. 

Just as the moon rose over the bay 

Where swinging wide at her moorings lay 

The Somerset British man of war; 

A phantom ship, with eacli mast and spar 

Across the moon like a prison-bar, 

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified 

By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street 
Wanders and watches with ea^er ears 



234: SILVER SHEAVES. 

Till in the silence around lie hears 
The muster of men at the barrack door, 
The sound of arms and the tramp of feet, 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers 
Marching down to their boat on the shore. 

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church 

By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, 

To the beltiy chamber overhead, 

And startled the pigeons from their perch 

On the sombre rafters, that round him make 

Masses of moving shapes of shade — 

By the trembling ladder steep and tall, 

To the highest window in the wall. 

Where he paused to listen and look down 

A moment on the roofs of the town; 

And the moonlight flowing over all. 

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, 

In tJieir night encampment on the hill. 

Wrapped in silence so deep and still, 

That he could hear, like the sentinel's tread, 

The watchful night wind, as it went 

Creeping along from tent to tent. 

And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" 

A moment later he feels the spell 

Of the place and the hour and tlie secret dread 

Of the lonely belfry and the dead; 

For, suddenly all his thoughts are bent 

On a shadowy something far away. 

Where the river widens to meet the bay — 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 235 

A line of black that bends and floats 
On the risinof tide like a brido-e of boats. 
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, 
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride, 
On the opposite shore walked Paul Ilevere. 
Now he patted his horse's side, 
jSTow he ^azed at the landscape far and near; 
Then, impetuous stamped the earth, 
^Vnd turned and tig-htened his horse's girth; 
But mostly he watched with eager search 
The belfry tower of the Old North Church, 
As it rose above the graves on the hill. 
Lonely and spectral, and sombre and still; 
And, lo! as he looks at the belfry's height, 
A glimmer and then a gleam of light! 
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns; 
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
A second lamp in the beltiw burns. 

A hurry of hoofs in a village street; 

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 

And beneath from tlie pebbles in passing. 

Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet. 

That was all! And yet through the gloom and the 

light, 
The fate of a nation was riding that night; 
And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight, 
Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

He has left the village and mounted the steep, 
And beneath him tranquil and broad and deep, 



236 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Is the mystic meeting of tlie ocean-lids; 

And under the alders that sldrt its edge, 

Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, 

Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. 

It was twelve by the village clock, 

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town; 

He heard the crowing of the cock, 

And the barking of the farmer's dog, 

And felt the damp of the river fog 

That rises after the sun goes down. 

It was one by the village clock, 

When he galloped into Lexington; 

He saw the gilded weather-cock 

Swim in the moon- light as he passed, 

And the meeting-house window, blank and bare, 

Glance at him with spectral glare. 

As if they already stood aghast 

At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clock. 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town; 

He heard the bleating of the flock, 

And the twitter of birds amoni? the trees. 

And felt the breath of the morning breeze 

Blowing o'er the meadows brown. 

And one was safe and asleep in his bed 

Who at the bridge would be first to fall, — 

Who that day would be lying dead, 

Pierced by a British musket-ball. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 

If Oil know the rest. In the books you have read 

How the British regulars fired and fled; 

How the farmer gave him ball for ball 

From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, 

Chasing the red coats down the lane. 

Then crossing the fields to emerge again, 

Under the trees at the turn of the road, 

And only pausing to fire and load. 

So, through the night rode Paul Revere; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 

To every Middlesex village and farm; 

A cry of defiance, and not of fear, 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 

And a word that shall echo for evermore. 

For, borne on the night -wind of the past, 

Through all our history to the last, 

^ the hour of darkness, and peril and need. 

The people will waken and listen to hear 

The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, 

And the midniirht messajre of Paul Revere. 



237 



WHAT IS TROUBLE? 

A company of Southern ladies were one day assem- 
bled in a lady's parlor when the conversation chanced 
to turn on the subject of earthly affliction. Each had 
her story of peculiar trial and bereavement to relate, 
except one pale, sad looking woman whose lustreless 



238 . SILVER SHEAVES. 

t'je and dejected air showed that she was a prev to the 
deepest mehincholy. Suddenly arousing herself, she 
said in a hollow voice " not one of jou know what 
trouble is." " Will you please, Mrs. Gray," said the 
kind voice of a lady who well knew her story, " tell 
the ladies what you call trouble?" " I will if you de- 
sire it," she replied, ''for I have seen it. My parents 
possessed a competence, and my girlhood was sur- 
rounded by all the comforts of life. I seldom knew 
an ungratified wish, and was always gay and light 
hearted. I married at nineteen one I loved more than 
all besides. Our home was retired, but the sunlight 
never fell on a lovelier one or a happier household. 
Years rolled on peacefully; live children sat around 
our table and a little curly head still nestled in my 
liosom. One night about sundown one of those black 
storms came on which are so common to our southern 
clime. For many hours the rain poured down inces- 
santly. Morning dawned, but still the elements raged. 
The whole Savanah seemed afloat. The little stream 
near our dwelling became a raging torrent. Before 
we were aware of it our house was surrounded by 
water. I managed with my babe to reach a little ele- 
vated spot on which a few wide spreading trees were 
standing, whose dense foliage afforded some protection, 
while my husband and sons strove to save what they 
could of our property. At last a fearful surge swept 
away my husband, and he never arose again. Ladies, 
no one ever loved a husband more, but that was not 
trouble. Presently my sons saw their danger, and the 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 239 

struggle for life became the only consideration. They 
were as brave, loving boys as ever blessed a mother's 
heart, and I watched their efforts to escape with such 
agony as only mothers can feel. They were so far off 
I could not speak to them, but I could see them clos- 
ing nearer and nearer each other as the little island 
gfrew smaller and smaller. The sullen river racked 
around the huge tree, dead branches, upturned trunks, 
wrecks of houses, drowning cattle, masses of rubbish, 
all went floating past us. My boys waved their hands 
to me, then pointed upward; I knew it was a farewell 
signal, and you mothers can imagine my anguish. I 
saw them all perish, and yet that was not trouble. 

I hugged my babe close to my heart, and when the 
water arose to my feet I climbed into the low branches 
of the tree, and so kept retiring before it till an All- 
Powerful Hand staid the waves that they should come' 
no further. I was saved ; all my worldly possessions 
swept away; all my earthly hopes blighted, yet that 
was not trouble. My babe was all I had left on earth. 
I labored night and day to support him and myself, 
and sought to train him in the right way, but as he 
grew older evil companions won him away from liome. 
He ceased to care- for his mother's counsel; he would 
BUQcr at her entreaties and agonizing prayers. He 
left my humble roof that he might be unrestrained in 
the pursuit of evil, and at last when heated by wine 
one night he took the life of a fellow being, and ended 
his own upon the scaffold. My Heavenly Father had 
filled my cup before, now it ran over. This was 



240 SILVER SHEAVES. 

trouble, ladies, such as I hope His mercy will save 
you from ever experiencing." There was not a dry 
eye among her listeners, and the warmest sympathy 
was expressed for the bereaved mother, whose sad his- 
tory had taught them a useful lesson. 



TYPHLOTES. 



I hear thee speak of beauty's countless forms 

And color's prismal tints in earth and sky, 
The works of God and works of man, whose charms 

Forever fill and please the seeing eye. 
The mighty sun that gleams in morning gray 
. And ev'ng gold, and glares in midday height; 
The twinkling stars and moon, with pensive ray 

That bless the near and distant worlds with light; 

But oh, for me all is rayless night! 

I hear thee speak of cloud with tempest black, 
And lightnings fiery in instant blaze. 

Leading the thunder in its deadly track, 

And rain shrouding the earth in watery haze; 

The snow in feathery flake or spotless fleece. 
And sky so clear and blue to heaven's height, 
But these for me are all engulfed in night. 

I hear thee speak of mountain's snowy crest, 

And rivers decked with foam and sparkling wave, 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 241 

Of isle-gemmed seas sublime in rage or rest, 
Of silvery lake and torrents' misty lave, 

And spheric mound and grassy width of plain, 
And myriad flowers that bloom in dewy sheen, 

The fields with verdant blade and yellow grain. 
And forest pillars crowned with leafy green: 
Yet oh, for me 'tis told, but all unseen! 

I hear thee speak of cities great and proud, 

Vast heaps of art and homes of toiling hearts. 
And spacious streets where beats the medly crowd; 

Of restful parks and grimy mammon's marts, 
And marble snowy walls seen frowning high, 

With cornice shade and window's glint of light, 
Within the spacious hall from far and nigh; 

The fruits of genius' toil in pictures bright; 

T hear the winsome song, but all is night. 

I hear thee speak of mother's thoughtful face. 

And father's stooping form and silvery hair. 
And sister's eyes all filled with tearful grace. 

And in my brother's look a brother's care. 
I hear thy voice, O friend! thy every tone, 

And on thy kindly words I helpless lean. 
For all to me is gloom — a dark unknown; 

I grope in night — no ray can pierce the screen — 

For me no star, no sun; all are unseen. 

I tell to thee a story sad and brief 

On my young eyes entranced with the first light; 
16 



242 SILVER SHEAVES, 

There fell a stroke of crnsliing pain and grief, 
Which once forever swept from me my sight. 

And now for years and years all dark has been 
This world to me; for me no vision blest. 

And thus until I pass that shore unseen 

And Christ robes me in my immortal dress — 
Then changeless beauty, light, sight, and rest! 



MY INDIAK LOYE. 

BY JOAQUIN MILLER. 

I love 
A forest maiden; she is mine; 
And on sierra's slopes of pine 
The vines below, the snow above, 
A solitary'- lodge set 
Within a fringe of watered firs — 
And there my wigwam fires burned, 
Fed by a round brown patient hand. 
That small brown faithful hand of hers. 
That never rests till my return; 
The yellow smoke is rising yet; 
Tip-toe and see it where you stand, 
Lift like a column from the land. 

There are no sea-gems in her hair, 
No jewels fret her dimpled hands'. 
And half her bronzed limbs are bare. 
But round brown arms have golden bands, 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 243 

Broad, rich, and by her cunning hands 

Cut from the yellow virgin ore. 

And she does not desire more, 

I wear the beaded wampum belt 

That she has wove — the sable pelt 

That she lias fringed red threads around: 

And in the room, where men are not, 

I wake the valley with the shot 

That brings the brown deer to the ground; 

And she beside the lodge at noon 

Sings with the wind, while baby swings 

In sea-shell cradle by the bough — 

Sings low, so like the clover sings 

With swarm of bees, I hear her now; 

I see her sad face through the moon ; 

Such songs! Would earth had more of such. 

She has not much to say, and she 

Lifts never voice to question me 

In aught I do — and that is much. 

I love her for her patient trust, 

And my love's forty-fold return — 

A value I have not to learn 

As you — at least as many must. 

She is not o'er tall or fair; 

Her breasts are curtained in her hair, 

And sometimes throuixh the silken fringe 

I see bosom's wealth, like wine. 

Burst through, in luscious rudy tinge — 

And all its wealth and worth are mine. 

I know not that one drop of blood 



244 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Of prince or chief is in her veins; 
I. simply say that she is good 
And loves me with pure womanhood. 
When that is said, why, what remains? 



CENTENNIAL HYMN. 

BY JOHN G. WniTTIER. 

[Sung at the Opening of the Centennial Exhibition, May 10, 1876. ] 

Our Fathers' God, from out whose hand 
The centuries fall like grains of sand, 
We meet to-day, united, free. 
And loyal to our land and Thee, 
To thank Thee for tlie era done. 
And trust Thee for the opening one. 

Here, w^here of old, by Thy design 
The fathers spake that woi'd of Thine, 
Whose echo is the glad refrain 
Of rended bolt and falling chain. 
To grace our festal time, from all 
The zones of earth our guests we call. 

Be with us while the New World greets 
The Old World thronging all its streets, 
Unvailing all the triumphs won 
By art or toil beneath the sun; 
And unto common good ordain 
This rivalship of hand and brain. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 245 

Thou who hast here in concord furled 
The war-flags of a gathered world 
Beneath our western skies, fulfill 
The Oriental's mission of good will, 
And, freighted with love's Golden Fleece, 
Send back the Argonaut* of peace. 

For art and labor met in truce, 
For beauty made the bride of use, 
We thank Thee; while withal, we crave 
The austere virtues strong to save 
The honor proof to place or gold. 
The manhood never bought nor sold! 

O! make thou us, through centuries long, 
In peace secure, in justice strong: 
Around our gift of Freedom draw 
The pageants of Thy righteous law; 
And, cast in some diviner mould, 
Let the new cycle shame the old ! 



ON THE DEATH OF NETTIE. 

(sister of the author.) 

Carefully, carefully close her blue eyes, 
Speed not the words of your sorrow; 
Silently, gladly her spirit shall rise. 



246 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Tearfully, sadly we wiitched through the hours, 

"Watched for the angel's pinions, 
That like the breeze from a garden of flowers, 

Came bearing her to its dominions. 

Beautiful, beautiful, even in death, 

Calm as the blue sky at even'; 
For, with the last faint expiring breath, 

Came the glad, bright smile of heaven. 

Quietly, quietly brush them away, 

Ringlets of golden lustre; 
O'er her forehead they fain would play. 

In a soft shining cluster. 

Here is her path by the mountain brook, 
Here had she gathered wild flowers, 

Here in the cool and shady nook. 
Played througli the rosy hours. 

Here are her play- things, all scattered around, 

Here are her flowers all dying; 
There flows the brook with its sad moaning sound, 

And the low night breeze is sighing. 

Sighing for her who shall wander no mqre, 

Down where it kisses the water; 
Courting the ripples that dance to the shore. 

Nature's own beautiful daughter. 

Nettie, sister Nettie! can it be, 
Thou shalt return again never; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 247 

Say not the cold grave lias swallowed tliee. 
Thou art an angel ever. 

Silently, silently close her blue eyes, 
Brush back her ringlets so golden; 

Over her pure snowy features there lies, 
A smile, oh! so calm, like the olden. 



LIGHT FOR ONE STEP MOEE. 

What, though before me it is dark — 

Too dark for me to see; 
I ask but light for one step more, 

'Tis quite enough for me. 

Each little humble step I take, 
The gloom clears from the next ; 

So, though 'tis very dark beyond, 
1 never am perplexed. 

And, if sometimes the mist hangs close, 

So close I fear to stray, 
Patient I wait a little while, 

And soon it clears away. 

I would not see my future path, 

For mercy veils it so ; 
My present steps might harder be. 

Did I the future know. 



248 SILVER SHEAVES. 

It may l)e that nij path is rough, 

Thorny and hard and steep; 
And, knowing this, iny strength might fail, 

Through fear and terrors deep. 

It may be that it winds along 

A smooth and flowery way. 
But, seeing this, I might despise 

The journey of to-day. 

Perhaps my faith is very short. 

My journey nearly done; 
And I might tremble at the thought, 

Of ending it so soon. 

Or if I saw a w^eary length 

Of road that I must wend. 
Fainting, I'd think my feeble powers 

"Would fail me ere the end. 

And so I do not wish to see, 

My journey or its length; 
Assured that through my Father's love, 

Each step will bring it's strength. 
Thus, step by step, I onward go, 

Trusting that I shall always have 
Light for just one step more. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 249 

THE WOELD OF BLISS. 

A COLLOQUY FOR FIVE YOUNG LADIES. 

Is life a reality or a dream? The bright sun of 
morning wakes my senses and I see a moving mass; 
people going up and down, some doing tliis, others 
that; all is motion. Even the cattle "upon a thousand 
hills," every bird on the wing, the finny tribe that 
glide over the bosom of the clear waters, or dive be- 
neath its turbid waves, the waving grain and foliage 
all add their voices in a testimony of a real existence. 

I draw aside the curtain and examine more closely, 
and ray eyes would fain turn aside from looking at the 
scene. Men and women taking by the hand innocent 
youth and guileless children and making for them and 
themselves a pathway where poverty, misery and guilt 
stalk about, and grim spectres and dispair sit brooding 
like a storm king. But methinks I have been told of 
other worlds far away; one of infinite beauty, whose 
inhabitants drink their fill of joys, and dwell in light 
far surpassing terrestrial lights. That darkness never 
obscures the vision of pearly gates and golden streets; 
that the King immortal sits there upon his throne, and 
all delight to honor him. 

Tell me ye maidens who wear the emblem of purity, 
is there such a world of bliss? 

FIRST VOICE. 

There is a world above 
"Where sorrow is unknown; 



250 SILVER SHEAVES. 

A long eternity of love, 

Formed for the good alone; 
And faith beholds the dying here, 
Transjilanted to that glorious sphere. 

SECOND VOICE. 

There no shadow shall bewilder, 

There life's vain parade is o'er, 
There tlie sleep of sin is broken, 

And the dreamer dreams no more. 
There the bond is never severed, 

Partings, claspings, sob and moan, 
Midnight waking, twilight weeping, 

Heavy noontide, all are done. 

THIRD VOICE. 

There is a region lovlier far 

Than sages tell or poets sing. 
Brighter than noonday glories are, 

And softer than the tints of spring. 
It is all holy and serene, 

The land of glory and repose ; 
'No cloud obscures the radiant scene, 

And not a tear of sorrow flows. 

FOURTH VOICE. 

A gentle air, so sweet, so calm, 

That sometimes from that viewless sphere 
The mourner feels their breath of balm, 

And soothed sorrow dries the tear. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 251 

And sometimes Itstening ear may gain 
Entrancing sound that hither floats, 

The echo of a distant strain, 

Of harps and voices, blended notes. 
Beyond the river. 

SOLILOQUIZER. 

Tell me ye maidens fair, how I may gain that blest 
abode? 

FIRST VOICE. 

Repent, return and live; 

He who no penitent disdains, 
New heavens, new earth can give. 

Simple obedience shall restore 
Green fields and sunny skies. 

And barkening to His voice, brings more 
Than Eden to your eyes. 

SECOND VOICE, 

Oh blest Repentance in thy weeping eye 
Swim the pure beams of embryo ecstacy, 
And faith and hope and joy and love prepare 
To still thy heart and wipe thy bitter tears. 
To thee alone the privilege is given, 
By earthly woe to kindle joy in heaven. 

THIRD VOICE. 

To thy heart take faith, 

Soft beacon light upon a stormy sea, 



252 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



A mantle for the pure in heart to pass 

Through a dim world untouched by living death; 

A cheerful watcher through the spirit's night, 
Soothing the grief from which she may not flee; 

A herald of glad news, a seraph bright. 
Pointing to sheltering heavens yet to be. 

FOUKTH VOICE. 

"'Till death the weary spirit free," 
Thy God hath said "'tis good for thee 

To walk by faitli and not by sight." 
Take on trust a little while, 

Soon shall thou read the mystery right, 
n the full sunshine of his smile. 

SOLILOQUIZER. 

With faitli our guide, 

Wliite robed and innocent to lead the way, 
We will not fear to plunge in Jordan's tide. 

And find the heaven of eternal day. 



A WESTEKN SKETCH. 

BY ESTHER DREISBACH CONDO. 

The sun was low, the air was cold, the day was almost 

flown, 
October's breath across the path a few red leaves had 

blown; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 253 

Where brown-faced, black-maned Dick, tbo parson's 

faithful horse, 
Eeflectively pursued his solemn, slow-paced course. 

Whilst his master high did sit in most triumphant 

state, 
In one-horse open chaise; the meanwhile through his 

pate 
Busy thoughts went trooping through of the country 

then so new. 
And the people dwelling there who claimed his kindly 

care. 

The prairies stretching wide he saw on every side. 
So, the vision seemed to be like the billows of the sea.; 
And, looking far ahead, over knolls and over the mead, 
Behind the tall poplar tree, near the home of Farmer 
Lee. 

When we at last did enter through rough gate into the 

yard. 
With dogs and kittens swarming 'round his Feet and 

body-guard ; 
We met a hearty welcome — a greeting warm and 

true, 
As the farmer gave his brown hand, with, "Why, 

brother, how d' ye do?" 

The house, although a log one, was cleanly, quiet and 

new; 
Outside some shining milk-pans had been sunning 

pure and sweet; 



254 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Hard by stood rows of bee-hives, with the bees' low 

droning sound: 
All hushed they were and quiet in the twilight closing 

'round. 

Arching o'er the pathway, a grape-stalk hung with 
fruit; 

Green hop- vines clambered o'er the dark old clap- 
board roof; 

There were morning-glories, pinks and striped ribbon 
grass so long, 

Their summer beauty faded, their bloom and freshness 
gone. 

Let us turn our glance again to the circle now within, 

As they gathered 'round the pastor and bid him wel- 
come in; 

And while they are discussing health, farms, church 
and weather, 

Can we not describe for you a w^estern country supper? 

Dame Lee is turning " flannel cakes " with shining 
copper ladle; 

Yudie Jane, a little maid, spreads on scoured wooden 
table, 

A snowy cloth, mug of cream, dark crullers piled bo 
high. 

Pink bowl of quince preserves, and rich brown pump- 
kin pie; 

While blue-edged plates, cheese, pickles, a pat of but- 
ter yellow, 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 255 

Fresli comb of dripping honey, canned peaches large 

and mellow; 
Fresh golden sweet potatoes, and fresh fish are in the 

oven waiting, 
Tea, and hnngry-smelling coffee the olfactories are 

regaling. 
The round-faced, black-eyed boys, all eager, listening 

stand, 
And a chubby little girl, clutching mamma's dress in 

hand ; 
For the conversation flagged not — it ran most steadily 

on 
About the "up North meetin's" in country and in 

town. 

"Oh, yes; I'm glad you came," said honest Farmer 

Lee, 
"We were getting quite discourged — no churches do 

we see; 
We 've no soulism, and isms I can't nor wouldn't join, 
But I tell ye now 'tis hard work to live God's will 

alone. 

"We will most surely all come next holy Sabbath day 
Up to the new big school house — you passed it on 

your way ; 
And I will tell the neighbors and rouse the country 

'round, 
To come and listen, while you preach a doctrine that 

is sound. 



256 SILVER SHEAVES. 

"We have much to wait and pray for, but I hope it 

won't be long 
Ere we will have a church-house for hallowed prayer 

and song; 
The country yet is new and rough, some of the people 

very wild, 
Though many good folks here I've met, real christians 

true and mild." 

The preacher, as he answered to the words of Farmer 
Lee, 

Said: " The Lord can save his children wherever they 
may be; 

It is not in the surroundings, so much as in the faith, 

That draws our Savior to us and strengthens our be- 
lief." 

■«• * * -If ■» * * ^ 

On the morrow, then, they parted, when God's bless- 
ing had been asked. 

And the hearts of all were strengthened for their own 
appointed tasks; 

And where are found co-workers, as this man Farmer 
Lee, 

The weary, traveling preacher good results may surely 
see. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 257 

THE MOTHEE'S MOTTO— "TOUCH NOT 
TASTE NOT." 

When this cruel war is over 

And our boys come home again, 
Will they come — our James and Roger—- 

Staunch and steadfast temp'rance men? 
Will they bring the temp'rance banner 

Floating freely on the wind, 
Or in vile and base dishonor 

Trailing in the dust behind? 

Earnestly dear mother's praying, 

Praying for her sons to-night ; 
Are those sons to-night betraying 

Her fond teachings of the right? 
Whatsoever 's the temptation, 

Touch not taste not is her word. 
For it leads to condemnation 

And dishonor of the sword. 

When the march is long and weary, 

Or the day is dull in camp. 
When you pass the night so weary 

In the guardsman's lonely tramp, 
When the grape and shell are flying 

Round you with their deadly aim, 
And your comrades falling, dying. 

Breathe the fondest, dearest name, 

17 



258 SILVER SHEAVES. 

You may liear the syren singing 

"Drink! 'twill nerve and cheer you up;" 

Then hear mother's motto ringing 
"Touch not, taste not, dash the cup!" 

There is safety in refraining, 
Bravely, soldierly to die? 

But we hope ere long to greet you, 

Mother, maiden, wife and friend, 
Praying that no evil meet you 

Till this cruel war shall end. 
Maimed or scarred with fair escutcheon, 

Upright, temp'rate, brave and true, 
Come to us who set our hearts on 

Victory, through such as you. 



LINES. 

/ Written on the cover of an old Bible, at the time when many 
Banks stopped payment.] 

This is my never-failing bank, 

My more than golden store. 
No earthly bank is half so rich, 

How can I then be poor? 

Tis when my stock is spent and gone 

And I without a groat, 
I'm glad to hasten to my bank 

And beg a little note. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 259 

Sometimes my banker smiling, sajs, 

Why don't yon oftener come? 
And when you draw a little bill, 

Why not a larger snm? 

Why live so niggardly and poor? 

The bank contains a plenty. 
Why come and take a one pound note 

When you may take a twenty? 

Nay, twenty thousand, ten times told, 

Is but a trifling sum 
To what my bank contains for me, 

Secured in God the Son. 

Since then my Banker is so rich, 

I have no need to borrow. 
But live upon ni}^ notes to-day 

And draw again to-morrow. 

I've been a thousand times" before 

And never was rejected; 
Those notes can never be refused. 

They are by grace accepted. 

All forged notes will be refused. 

They're sure to be detected. 
All those will deal in forged notes 

Who are not God's elected. 

'Tis only those beloved of God, 
Redeemed by precious blood. 



260 SILVER SHEAVES. 

That ever have a note to bring — 
They are the gift of God. 

There's thousand ransomed sinners fear 

They have no note at all 
Because they feel the plunge of sin, 

So beggar'd by the fall. 

Though thousand notes lie scattered round 
All signed, and sealed and free. 

Yet many a doubting soul will say 
"Ah, they are not for me." 

Base unbelief will lead the soul 

To say what is not true; 
I tell the poor, emptied man 

Those notes belong to you. 

Should all the banks in Britain break, 
The Bank of England smash. 

Bring in your notes to Zion's Bank; 
You are sure to get the cash. 

Nay, if you have but one small note 

Fear not to bring it in: 
Come boldly to the Bank of Grace, 

The banker is within. 

I'll go again; I need not fear 
My notes should be neglected: 

Sometimes my banker gives me more 
Than asked for, or expected. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 261 

Sometimes I felt a little proud, 

I managed things so clever; 
Perhaps before the day was gone 

I felt as poor as ever. 

Sometimes, with blushes in my face, 

Just at the door I stand; 
I know if Moses kept the bank 

I am sure I must be damn'd. 

But ah! my bank can never break, 

My bank can never fall; 
The firm — three persons in one God — 

Jehovah, Lord of All. 

Should all the bankers close their doors, 

My bank stands open wide 
To all the chosen of the Lord, 

For whom the Saviour died. 

We read of one young man, indeed, 

Whose riches did abound. 
But in the banker's Book of Life 

His name was never found. 

The leper had a little note: 

" Lord, if thou wilt thou canst." 
The banker paid this little note 

And healed the dying man. 

Behold and see the dying thief. 
Hang by his Banker's side ; 



262 SILVER SHEAVES. 

He cried, " Dear Lord, remember me " : 
He got his cash and died. 

His Blessed Banker took him home 

To everlasting glory, 
And there to share his Banker's grace 

And tell his endless story, 

With millions more — Jehovah's choice- 
Redeemed with precious blood; 

With Peter, Paul, and Magdalene, 
And all the elect of God. 



A PRAYER. 



Jesus of Heaven, condescend 
Thy grace and pity for to lend, 
Awhile my aching heart to cheer. 
With love that all mankind should fear. 

My sins forgive, thy love bestow. 
That I may happy live below, 
Or, dying, soar to Thee above, 
To dwell in endless peace and love. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 268 

VASTNESS AND GRANDEUR OF THE SO- 
LAR SYSTEM. 

PiioF. Geant, of Glasgow University, in a recent 
lecture on Stars, said that a railway train traveling 
night and day at the rate of fifty miles an hour, would 
reach the moon in six months, the sun in two hundred 
years, and t])C Alpha Centauri in forty-two millions 
of years. A ball from a gun, traveling at the rate of 
900 miles an hour, would reach Mplui Centauri in 
2,900,000 years; while light, traveling as it did at the 
rate of 185,000 miles a second, would not reach it in 
less than three years. Light from some of the tele- 
scope stars M'ould take 5,760 years to reach the earth; 
and from some of these clusters the distance was so 
great that light would take half a million years to pass ■ 
to the earth, so that we see objects not as they really are 
but as thej^ were half a million years ago. These stars 
might have become extinct thousands of years ago, 
and yet their light might present itself to us. 

As to the magnitude of the stars, he noticed that it 
was computed that Aljpya Lyra was a hundred billions 
of miles distant from the earth, and its magnitude and 
splendoi" was as twenty to one wdien compared with 
our sun. Similar investiorations broujjht out the fact 
that our sun was neither vastly greater nor vastly less 
than the great majority of our stars. 



264 SILVER SHEAVES. 

ANGELS MET HIM AT THE GATE. 

[This elegant Song was written in tribute to the Memory of 
P. P. Bliss, the Evangelist.] 

Angels met hi in at the gate, 

Humble singer of earth's song, 
Welcomed to their bi-ight estate. 

By the fair immortal throng. 
Sweetly singing, strains of mirth 

Ringing throngh high heaven's dome, 
To the wayfarer from earth 

Who at last had wandered home. 

CHOKTTS. 

Angels bright and angels fair 
Gladly meet him at the gate, 

Sweetly singing he shall wear 
Brightest crown of our estate. 

Angels met him at the gate, 

Bearing robes of snowy white 
For the wanderer long and late, 

Out of darkness into light; 
Out of pain and into rest; 

Sweetest rest forever more, 
'Mid the mansions of the blest 

Over on that sunny shore. 

Angels met him at the gate, 

And. his pilgrimage was done; 
Ev'ry joy of heaven's estate 

By the christian soldier won. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 265 

After night the golden day; 

After seed-time harvest-home; 
Pilgrim from life's thorny way, 

Never more thy feet shall roam. 



CENTENNIAL ODE. 

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BEYANT. 

Through storm and calm the years have led 
Our nation on, from stage to stage, 

A century's space, until we tread 
The threshold of another age. 

We see there, o'er our pathway swept, 
A torrent stream of blood and fire, 

And thank the Ruling Power who kept 
Our sacred league of States entire. 

Oh, checkered train of years, farewell! 

With all thy strife and hopes and fears: 
But with us let thy memories dwell, 

To warn and lead, the coming years. 

And thou, the new-beginning Age, 
Warned by the past, and not in vain, 

Write on a fairer, whiter page. 
The record of thy happier reign. 



^66 SILVER SHEAVES. 

BEND BENEATH THE BLAST. 

"When sorrow's tempests round us roar. 

And overwhelm the soul, 
O trust tliou not in worldly pride, 

Or seek the tempest's bowl ; 
But with a firm and trusting heart 

Bend low beneath the blast, 
And He above who chasteneth theo 

Will raise thee when 'tis past. 

The lofty oak, .the mountain pine, 

So stately in their pride, 
Must bend or break before the storms 

That on the night winds ride; 
"While the meek willow lowly stoops 

Before the raging blast. 
And lifts it's head in beauty decked. 

When storms and clouds are past. 

So thou, O man, must lowly bend 

When sorrows round thee press ; 
They may be angels in disguise. 

To lead to happiness. 
O trust to Him who rules above, 

And bend beneath the blast. 
And He will raise thy drooping soul 

When storms of life are past. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 267 

A TOUCH OF NATURE. 

MUSIC IX CAMP, 

[This beautiful poem was written during the war b;/ John R. 
Thompson, a Southern poet, tvho died on the first of May, 1862. ] 

Two armies covered hill and plain 

Where Rappahannock's waters 
Ran deeply crimsoned with the stain 

Of battle's recent slaughter. 

The summer clouds lay pitched like tents 

In meads of heavenly azure, 
And each dread gun of elements 

Slept in his hid emhrasure. 

The bi-eeze so softly blew, it made 

jSTo forest leaf to quiver. 
And the smoke of the random cannonade 

Rolled slowly from the river. 

And now where circling hills looked down 

With cannon grimly planted, 
O'er listless camp and silent town 

The golden sunset slanted — 

When on the fervent air there came 

A strain, now rich, now tender — 
The music seemed itself aflame 

With day's. departing splendor. 

A Federal band, which eve and morn 
Played measures brave and nimble, 



368 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Had just struck up with flute and horn 
And lively clash of cymbal. 

Down flocked the soldiers to the bank 

Till margined by its pebbles, 
One wooded shore was blue with 'Yanks;' 

And one was gray with ' Eebels.' 

Then all was still; and then the band, 
With movement light and frisky, 

Made stream and forest, hill and strand 
Reverberate with 'Dixie.' 

The conscious stream, with burnished glow, 
Went proudly o'er the pebbles. 

But thrilled throughout its deepest flow 
With yelling of the Rebels. 

Again a pause, and then again 
The trumpet pealed sonorous, 

And "Yankee Doodle" was the strain 
To which the shore gave chorus. 

The laughing ripple shoreward flew 
To kiss the shining pebbles — 

Loud shrieked swarming boys in blue 
Defiance to the Rebels. 

And yet once more the bugle sang 

Among the stormy riot ; 
No shout upon the evening rang — 

There reigned a holy quiet. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 269 

The sad, slow stream its noiseless flood 
Pouring o'er the glistening pebbles; 

And silent now the Yankees stood — 
And silent stood the Rebels. 

No unresponsive soul had heard 

That plaintive note's appealing, 
So deeply "Home, Sweet Home," had stirred 

The hidden founts of feeling. 

Of blue or gray, he sees, 

As by the wand of fairy, 
The cottage 'neath the live oak trees, 

The cabin by the prairie; 

Or cold or warm his native skies 

Bend in their beauty o'er him; 
Seen through the tear-mist in his eyes 

His loved ones stand before him. 

As fades the iris after rain 

In April's tearful weather, 
The vision vanished as the strain 

And daylight died together. 

But memory waked by music's art, 

Expressed by simplest numbers, 
Subdued the sternest Yankee's heart, 

Made light the Rebel's slumbers. 

And fair the form of Music shrines — 

That bright, celestial creature — 
Who still 'mid war's embattled lines. 

Gave this one touch of nature. 



^70 SILVER SHEAVES. 

GOD BLESS THE UNION SOLDIER 

BY EGBERT G. INGERSOLL. 

The past rises before me like a dream. Again we 
are in the great struggle for national life. We hear 
the sounds of preparation, the music of the boisterous 
drums, .the silver voices of heroic bugles. We see 
thousands of assemblages, and hear the appeals of 
orators; we see the pale cheeks of women and the 
Hushed faces of men; and in those assemblages we see 
all the dead whose dust we have covered with flowers. 
We lose sight of them no more. We are with them 
when the)'- enlist in the great army of freedom. We 
see them part with those they love. Some are walk- 
ing for the last time in quiet, woody places with the 
maidens they adore. We hear the M'hisperings and 
the sweet vows of eternal love as they lingeringly part 
forever. Others are bending over cradles, kissing 
babies that are asleep; some are receiving the bless- 
ings of old men; some are parting with mothers who 
hold them and press them to their hearts again and 
again, and say nothing, and some are talking with 
Avives, and endeavoring with brave words spoken in 
the old tones to drive from their hearts the awful fear. 
We see them part. We see the wife standing in the 
door, with the babe in her arms — standing in the sun- 
light sobbing — at the tarn of the road a hand waves — 
she answers by holding high in her loving hands the 
child. He is gone, and forever. We see them all as 
they march proudly away under the flaunting flags, 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 271 

keeping tiine to the wild, grand music of war, raarcli- 
ing down the streets of the great cities, tlirough the 
towns and across the prairies, down to the fields of 
glory, to do and to die for the eternal right. We go 
with them, one and all. We are by their side on all 
the gory fields, in the hospitals, on all the weary 
marches. We stand guard with them in the wild 
storm, and under the quiet stars. We are with them 
in ravines running with blood, in the furrows of old 
fields; we are with them between contesting hosts 
unable to move, wild with thirst, the life ebbing 
slowly away among the withered leaves. We see them 
])ierced by balls and torn with shells in the trenches 
l)y forts, and in the whirlwind of the charge, where 
men become iron with nerves of steel. 

We are with them in the prisons of hatred and 
famine; but human speech can never tell what they 
endured. We are at home when the news comes that 
they are dead. We see the maiden in the shadow of 
lier first sorrow. We see the silvered head of the old 
man bowed with the first grief. 

The past rises before us, and we see four millions 
of human beings governed by the lash; we see them 
hound hand and foot; we hear the strokes of cruel 
whips; we see the hounds tracking women through 
the tangled swamps ; we see babes sold from the breasts 
of mothers. Cruelty unspeakable! Outrage infinite! 
Four million bodies in chains — four million souls in 
fetters. All the sacred relations of wife, mother, father 



272 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



and child trampled beneatli the brutal feet of might. 
All this was done under our omti beautiful banner of 
the free. The past rises before us : we hear the roar and 
shriek of the bursting shell; the broken fetters fall; 
these heroes died. We look, instead of slaves we see 
men, women and children. The wand of progress 
touches the auction block, the slave pen, the whipping 
post, and we see homes and firesides, and school-houses 
and books, and where all was want and crime and 
cruelty and fetters, we see the faces of the free. These 
heroes are dead; they died for liberty; they died for 
us; they are at rest; they sleep in the land tJiey made 
free under the flag they rendered stainless, under the 
solemn pines, the sad hemlocks, the tearful willows and 
the embracing vines; they sleep beneath the shadows of 
the clouds, careless alike of sunshine or storm, each in 
the windowlcss palace of rest. Earth may run red 
with other wars, they are at peace. In the midst of 
battle, in the roar of conflict, they found the severity 
of death. I have one sentiment for the soldiers, living 
and dead — cheers for the living and tears for the 
dead. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 273 

THE BIYOUAC OF THE DEAD. 

BY COL. THEODOKE o'hAKA. 



The muffled drum's sad roll has beat 

The soldier's last tattoo; 
No more on life's parade shall meet 

The brave and fallen few. 
On Fame's eternal camping ground 

Their silent tents are spread, 
And Glory guards, with solemn round, 

The bivouac of the dead. . 

II. 

No rumor of the foe's advance 

Now swells upon the wind, 
Nor troubled thought at midnight haunts 

Of loved ones left behind. 
No vision of the morrow's strife 

The warrior's dream alarms; 
No braying horn, no screaming fife, 

At dawn shall call to arms. 

III. 

Their shivered swords are red with rust, 
Their plumed heads are bowed, 

Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, 
Is now their martial shroud — 

And plenteous funeral tears have washed 

The red stains from each brow, 
18 



274 SILVER SHEAVES. 

And the proud forms by battle gashed 
Are free from anguish now. 

IV. 

The neighing troop, the flashing blades, 

The bugle's stirring blast, 
The charge, the dreadful cannonade, 

The din and shout are passed ; 
Kor War's wild notes, nor Glory's peal, 

Shall thrill with fierce delight 
Those breasts that never more may feel 

The rapture of the light. 

V. 

Like the fierce Northern hurricane 

That sweeps his great plateau, 
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain, 

Come down the serried foe. 
Who heard the thunder of the fray 

Break o'er the field beneath, 
Knew well the watchword of that day 

Was " Yictory or death !" 

■» % •X' ■» * * * 

VI. 

Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest, 

Far from the gory field. 
Borne to a Spartan mother's breast 

On many a bloody shield. 



MSICELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 275 

The sunshine of their native sky 

Smiles sadly on them here, 
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by 

The hero's sepulchre. 

VII. 

Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead! 

Dear is the blood you gave — 
1^0 impious footsteps here shall tread 

The herbage of your grave. 
Nor shall your glory be forgot 

While fame her record keeps, 
Or Honor points the hallowed spot 

Where Yalor proudly sleeps. 

VIII. 

Yon marble minstrel's voiceful stone, 

In deathless song shall tell, 
When many a vanished year hath flown, 

The story how you fell; 
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight. 

Nor Time's remorseless doom, 
Can dim one ray of holy light, 

That gilds your glorious tomb. 



2TG SILVER SHEAVES. 

EPISODE. 

'Twas on a stormy winter's clay, 
Upon the ground snow thickly lay; 
December winds were whistling by, 
Dark clouds were flitting o'er the sky, 
And nature put forth every token, 
As plainly as if words were spoken: 
The blast is near — hie to your cot; 
IsTor venture from that hallowed spot. 
One weary traveler on the road 
Employs in vain both whip and goad, 
To force his jaded, way-worn beast 
Into a faster walk, at least; 
But, notwithstanding whip and sj)ur. 
From off a walk he would not stir. 
The blast sweeps on with all its force, 
Snow-laden Boreas hides his course; 
The night now taking place of day, 
In vain he tries to find the way. 
Long hours he wanders through the gloom, 
Fearing each hour may fix his doom, 
Until hope dies within his heart; 
" Must I," he cries, " with earth thus part? 
My God! is this Thy stern decree — 
My kindred never more to see? 
Why hast Thou kept me thus alive, 
So near my father to arrive, 
And brought me here to be ov'rthrown, 
"While friends are near to die alone?" 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 277 

And bewildered with the Wast, 

One hopeful look toward heaven he casts: 

Then yielding up his frozen breath, 

Sinks from his horse all cold in death. 

Relieved at once of all its load. 

Again the horse soon finds his way — 

Brute instinct now assuming sway, 

The beast again plods on his way ; 

And ere another hour goes by, 

To the old homestead he draws nigh. 

Stopping at the barn-yard gate, 

Long time with patience does he wait, 

Until the new returning: lio^ht 

Dispels the gloomy shades of night. 

'Tis morn: The cock with trumpet shrill, 
Makes music o'er each vale and hill. 
And brings each sturdy yeoman forth 
To tend his herd ; while from the North 
Old Boreas comes with furious tread. 
That drives each beast to stall and shed. 
And now, unconscious of his loss. 
The sire goes forth through snow and frost, 
To milk the kine and feed the stock. 
And mind the welfare of his flock. 
He stands aghast in mute surprise, 
When he the faithful beast espies, 
Who, neighing, runs to where he stands, 
And smells his kind old master's hands; 



278 ^ SILVER SHEAVES. 

The father speeds from cot to cot, 
His story tells and tarries not, 
Till twenty sturdy yeomen meet 
To sconr the ground with nimble feet. 

An hour goes by, and in their search 
They wander past the ruined church. 
Into a wild, untraveled way, 
Where the light snow in mountains lay ; 
When with a mournful howl that sounds 
O'er hill and mountain crag around, 
The faithful watchdog snuffs the breeze, 
Then darts away among the trees. 
Sinking each moment to the waist, 
They follow on with breathless haste; 
Till 'neath an old and spreading pine. 
He paws the snow with piteous whine. 
The mantling snow is torn away. 
And there in icy windings lays, 
That weary traveler's form, 
Who perished in the midnight storm. 

" O God!" the aged sire exclaims; 
It is my son — my noble James ! " 
Then low, iTpon the frozen ground. 
Beside the corpse he sat liim down. 

" Alas, my boy ! that I should find 
Thee here in death's embrace entwined; 
My son, my son, my only born! 
Why didst thou leave me here forlorn? 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 279 

I loved thee tenderly, my son ; 

But now, alas, thy race is run ! 

And I am left an aged man, 

Amid the wrecks of life to stand 

Alone. The partner of my joy 

Expired in bearing thee my boy; 

And now thou 'rt gone, upon whose breast 

I thought my dying head to rest. 

And I am left all alone to bear 

This weary burden of despair. 

Come, welcome death, O, give relief! 

And in oblivion end my grief." 

He ceased, and low upon his breast 

His head sank down, as if in rest. (i ■ ^ 

They lifted softly his drooping head, 

'Twas vain — the stricken sire was dead. 



LINES ON THE MYSTIC TIE. 

BY CAPT. S. WHITING. 

When far in distant lands we roam, 

And no loved faces we descry; 
This bond makes every place a home — 

The " mystic tie " — the " mystic tie." 
"When tossed upon the stormy sea. 

Or sick in distant lands we lie; 
A thought consoling, 'tis that we 

Arc brethren of the " mystic tie." 



280 SILVER SHEAVES. 

~ It brings kind friends around our bed — 

It bids us look to God on high; 
By it our thoughts to heaven are led, 

Dear " mystic tie " — sweet " mystic tie." 
When turnino; homeward o'er the main, 

We watch our bai'k with gladness fly; 
To bear us to our friends again — 

Our brethren of the " mystic tie." 

O! may this bright, fraternal chain. 

That binds us heart to heart below, 
Unweakened and undimmed remain. 

When to the heavenly lodge we go; 
There by this bond, that e'er shall last, 

Eternal as the starry sky, 
May be linked when life is past, 

Sweet " mystic tie " — sweet " mystic tie." 



To L. M. W. 



The mind still retains 

After years have departed, 
Some precious remains 

Of the generous hearted; 
And brings back to view. 

From the shore of time's ocean, 
The good and the true. 

We have crowned with devotion. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 281 

The flash of a smile, 

Or the ripple of laughter, 
That rang for awhile, 

Will revive in years after; 
Though the voice may be hushed, 

And the smile may be faded, 
And flowers may be crushed. 

O'er the forms they have shaded. 

So this faithful heart 

Will forget thee, no never! 
Till life's scenes depart 

And existence shall sever; 
Then, constancy's gem, 

You must give while I ask it, 
And grant me the same 

From thy memory's casket. 



ODE ON THE SEA OF GALILEE. 

BY N. P. WILLIS, 

As o'er thy past my fancy strays, 
Blue sea amidst the lonely hills! 

Sweet thoughts of other, brighter days 
With holy calm my spirit fills. 

'Twas on the hills that round thee swell, 
And on thy narrow, verdant shore 



282 SILVER SHEAVES. 

The Saviour whom I lov^* so well 
Oft journeyed in the days of yore. 

And there He brake the living bread, 
And bade the streams of mercy flow; 

To heaven true life waked up the dead, 
And turned to joy the mourner's woe. 

Oh, would that I were with them amid their shining 

throng, 
Mingling in their worship, joining in their song. 
The friends that started with me have entered long 

ago; 
One by one they left me struggling with the foe; 
Their pilgrimage was shorter, their triumph sooner 

won; 
How lovingly they'll hail me when my toil is done! 

"With them the blessed angels that know no grief nor 

sin, 
I see them by the portal, prepared to let me in. 
Oh, Lord! I wait thy pleasure; thy time and way are 

best; 
But I am wasted, worn and weary. Oh Father bid me 

rest. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 283 

THERE'S REST BY AND BY. 

When faint and weary toiling, 

The sweat drops on my brow 
I long to cease from labor 

And drop the burden now. 
There comes a gentle chicling 

To quell each murmuring sigh: 
Work while the day is shining 

" There's resting by and by." 

'Tis not to hear thy groaning 

Thy task is heavy made, 
Kor adding to thy sorrow 

That succor is delayed. 
When bending neath the burden 

You toil, and sweat, and cry, 
"Be patient" is the answer, 

" There's resting by and by." 

The way is rough and thorny, 

The day is dark and drear. 
My step is growing weary. 

The night is drawing near; 
Behold this verdant wayside. 

How cool the shadows lie! 
" Nay, pause not in thy journey, 

There's resting by and by." 

Ah! when the crown is waiting, 
And room enough in heaven, 



284 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Why wage a further warfare 

Where dreadful wounds are given? 
O give me now the trophy! 
Why not my Saviour, why? 
" Still bear the cross a season, 
There's resting by and by," 

This life to toil is given, 

And he improves it best 
Who seeks by cheerful labor 

To enter into rest. 
Then pilgrim worn and weary 

Press on! the goal is nigh! 
"The prize is straight before thee; 

There's resting by and by." 



ON THE DEATH OF MY BUNK -MATE, 
G. A. BLANK, 

Whose heart was hushed in the Battle of the Wilderness, 
May 5, 1864. 

In the battle cloud's eclipse, 

'Mid a shower of shot and shell, 

With his soul upon his lips, 

George fell; 

And we laid him, stiff and cold, 

'Neath the sod; yet, why repine? 

When he reached the Gates of Gold, 

If he had the countersign. 

All is well! 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 285 

Hallowed is the path he trod, 

And the little nameless knoll ; 
Earth has claimed his form, but God 

Claimed his soul! 
And, like Samuel of old, 

"When he called him, wounded, grieved, 
Quick he answered : " Lord, behold, 
Here am I!" and God received 
George's soul. 

Pilgrim clouds in mourning deep. 

As they journey through the skies, 
Pause upon their way to weep 

Where he lies; 
And, salutes of thunder roll 
O'er the hero's burial sod. 
But his young unimprisoned soul 
Has joined the hosts of God, 
In the skies. 



MORI!TING SUPPLICATION. 

Thou who watchest in the darkness. 
Who dost give the morning light; 

During sleep's defenseless hours. 
Who hast kept me through the day. 

Wilt thou suffer me to praise Thee? 
Wilt thou hear my morning song? 



286 SILVER SHEAVES. 

I who have so often wandered 

From the right and chose the wrong. 

Father wilt thou let me thank Thee, 
Bowing at thy mercy seat, 

For thy mercies and thy patience, 
Prostrate here before thy feet? 

Shall I go alone to struggle 
In the conflicts of this day? 

Grant thy all sufficient favor — 
Father aid me lest I stray. 

May my praises be accepted. 
And my thanks be all sincere, 

Though as poor and undeserving — 
Gracious Being! wilt Thou hear. 



-LINES ON THE OLD SIIOOL-HOUSE. 

Whatever else to the night has gone — 
The niffht that never shall know a dawn — 
It stands undimmed in my memory still, 
The old brown school-house on the hill. 

I see the briers beside the door; 

The rocks where we played in keeping store; 

The steps we dug in the bank below, 

And the '"bear track trod in the winter's snow. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 287 

The corner brick on the chimney lies 
Just as it did to my boyish eyes, 
And in dreams I throw the stones again 
I threw at the toppling brick in vain. 

The names on the weatherboards are part 
Of the sacred treasures of my heart ; 
Some yet a place with the earth-sounds keep, 
And some in the holds of silence sleep. 

I hear the growl from his central lair 
Of the swiftest boy who stood for "bear," 
And the sound brings back the joy and glow 
Of the chase around the ring of snow. 

Often again in thought I slide 
On the stone-boat down the long hill side; 
The breathless speed and the dizzy reel, 
And the wind in my lifted hair I feel. 

Ah me ! there are spots that hold my dead 
In a sleep unstirred by memory's tread; 
And many a scene of life's triumph lies 
Deep in the mists that never rise. 

And things of rapture and things of tears, 
Are hidden within the veil of years ; 
But the old brown school-house on the hill — 
It stands undimmed in my memory still. 



288 SILVER SHEAVES. 

LINES ON THE DEPAKTING YEAK. 

A sad farewell to thee, Old Year! 

Thoul't soon be numbered with the past, 
And from thy grasp so white and drear 

Thy few short hours are slipping fast. 
Thou'rt leaving still a careless world, 

That does not mark thy rapid flight; 
Heedless they live till they are hurled 

Into the grave and out of sight. 

Old Year, I will not thee forget, 

For thou hast been a friend to me; 
Only it makes this heart regret 

How sadly I have misused thee. 
You brought me stores of joy and pain. 

And taught me many lessons, too, 
How deeper pleasures to attain, 

And gave me friendship lasting, true. 

The clock strikes twelve and now thour't gone; 

Another quickly takes thy place, 
Until like thee, as old and wan. 

He hurries from this world of space. 
The earth pursues its onward track — 

The sun still rises just to set; 
Oh! if I could I'd call thee back, 

But thou art now beyond regret. 

Thy life was shorter yet than mine 
I have lived recklessly with thee; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 289 

But this much I liave learned of tliine: 

Time may not linger long for me. 
Many have died and many born, 

Though some of these that passed away 
Were not the old and weary-worn, 

Nor ready for the last great day. 

Nations have shook and nations fell 

Since thou wast ushered into life, 
But now a calm pervades— 'tis well, 

For all seemed weary — tired of strife. 
I mourn that thou hast left our sight: 

Let others sound thy loud death knell; 
Oh! these may seem our parting bright; 

Departing year! a long farewell! 



BREEZES OF THE SUMMER EVE. 

Breeze of the summer eve, from whence is thy flight? 
And whither art straying so gently to-night? 
Oh, soft are thy whispers and balmy thy breath. 
And peaceful, O peaceful, tliy song on the heath. 

Say, where hast thou been in thy journey to-day? 
Say, what hast thou seen on thy sun-lighted way? 
What happiness prompts thee, sweet zephyr, to pour 
Forth thy burden of gladness and hope at my door? 
19 



290 SILVER SHEAVES. 

" I have come from tlie clime where the incense of 
flowers 

Is kissing to heaven, through all tlie bright hours; 

Where the vine spreads its leaves in the midsummer's 
ray; 

"Where the orange groves bloom and the cool foun- 
tains plaj; 

" Where a briglit river winds by an ever green shore, 
And the song of the bulbul is heard evermore; 
And for many a blessed and beautiful day, 
No storm-cloud nor shadow has darkened my way. 

"And I saw on the deep, as I journeyed to-day, 
A vessel becalmed on her watery way ; 
I filled her white sails and she sped on her flight, 
x\nd she rides at her anchor in safety to-night. 

"And again, as I wandered through forest and glade, 
I came by the bower of a beautiful maid; 
A sunbeam was tinging her cheek with its glow, 
And I kissed her ripe lips and caressed her fair brow. 

"And then through a lattice I noiselessly crept. 
And passed by a couch where an invalid slejtt; 
I fanned his hot cheek with the breath of a rose. 
And a bright dream of pleasure passed o'er his repose. 

"And I saw a young bride, whose bloom Avould outvie 
The blush of the rose in its niddiest dye. 
And she heard with delight my low sigh in the grove 
As I blended my song with her day-dream of love. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 291 

"And I came wliere an innocent babe, on the breast 
()f a liappy young mother, was takinor a rest. 
And I tossed its bright ringlets of gold as I j)assed, 
And o'er its calm sleep sweet visions I cast. 

"And a toiler had paused by the side of a rill 
To allay his fierce thirst, as I swept o'er the hill; 
A silvered-haired man, with a sorrowful air. 
All encumbered with years and encompassed with 
care — 

'•And then, as he eagerly bowed down his head 
To quafi'froni the stream, in its pebbly bed, 
I cooled the bright drops as they playfully ran 
To meet the parched lips of the weary old man. 

"And thus as I wander by cottage and grove, 

I bear on my wings a blest mission of love; 

And the children of men in their joy shall reply. 

As I turn my glad song through the midsummer sky." 



"OUR HEROIC THEMES." 

[This poem teas read at the Annual Reunion of the Society of the 
Army of the Potomac, by Geo. H. Boker. ] 

Turn as I may in search of worldly themes 
To fill with life the poet's solemn dreams. 
Some hint from Rome, some retrospect of Greece 
Red with their war, or golden with their peace; 



292 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Some thought of Lancelot and Gninevere, 
The "Ann in samite" and the "mystic mere," 
Or those grand echoes that forever flow 
From Rohmd's horn through narrow E-oncesvaux. 
Some spark yet living of the strange romance 
Whose flame illumed the Crusader's lance; 
Or that strong purpose which inclosed the seas 
Before the vision of the Genoese; 
Or when the love lock and the close cropped crown 
Died with a laugh, or triumphed with a frown; 
Or the frail may flower poured her prayerful flock, • 
Upon the breast of Plymouth's wintry rock; 
Or, when the children of those hardy men 
Bearded the throne they never loved again. 
Those splendid themes, so sacred to ray youth, 
Those dreams of fancy with their heart of truth, 
Paled, as I viewed them in the fresher rays 
That light the scenes of these heroic days; 
Shrank, as the young Colossus of our age 
With scornful flnger turned the historic page, 
And sought through pigmy chiefs and pigmy wars 
To peer his stature and his studious frown; 
Then razed the records as he wrote his own, 
Matchless in grandeur — product of a cause 
As deep and changeless as those moral laws 
That base themselves upon the throne of God, 
Fair with his blessings, awful with his rod. 

But why explore the sources of the flood. 
Whence all the land ran steel and fire and blood. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 293 

My lieart is fretting like a tethered steed's, 

To join the heroes in their noble deeds. 

A noise of armies gathers in mj ears, 

The Southern yells! the Northern battle cheers; 

The endless volleys, ceaseless as tlie roar 

Of the vexed Ocean brawling with its shore; 

The groaning cannon, puffing at a breath 

Man's shreds and fragrnen ts through the jaws of death; 

The rush of horses and the wherring sway 

Of the keen sabre cleaving soul from clay; 

And over all intelligible and clear 

As spoken language to a listning ear, 

The bugle orders the tumultuous herds. 

And leads the flocks of battles with its words. 

'Twas mine to witness and to feel the shame 

Manassas cast upon our early fame, 

When the raw greenness of our boastful bands 

Yielded a victory almost in their hands; 

Fled from the field before a vanished foe, 

And lied about it, to complete the woe. 

Since then, through all the changes of the war, 

My eyes have followed our ascending star. 

Ascending ever, though at times the cloud 

Of dark disaster cast its murky shroud 

About our guide, oppressing men with fear 

Lest the last day of liberty draw near. 

Through all I knew, and with my faith upborne, 

Turned on the weak a smile of pitying scorn, 



294 SILVER SHEAVES. 

That our calm star still filled its destined place, 
Lost to our sight, but shining in God's face. 
With growing courage day by da)' I hung 
Above the soldier with the quiet tongue. 
Sneers hissed about him, penmen fought his war. 
Here he was lacking, there lie went too far, 
Alas! how bloody, but alack how tame; 
for Lee's talent! O ye fools for shame! 
From the first move this foe defensive stood, 
And was that nothing? It was worth the blood, 
O chief supreme, the head of glory's roll, 

will of steel, O lofty, generous soul. 
Sharing thy laurels lest a comrade want. 

Why should I name thee? Every mouth cries Grant! 

Time was my faith in him whose sturdy skill 
Three dreadful days had held tlie quaking hill, 
Stood like a rock on wliich the fiery spray 
Beat out its life, then slowly ebbed away; 
Saved our domain from rapine, w^aste and wrath, 
And taught the foe an unreturning patli — 
Light of our darkness, succor our need; 
God of our country, bless the name of Mead! 

1 saw with wonder Sherman's Titan line 
Pour from the mountains to the distant brine. 
Sweep treason's cradle bare of all its brood, 
And turn its garden to a solitude; 

Fear ran before him. Famine groaned behind, 
And following Famine came the humble mind. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 



295 



Who felt a care within his bosom grow 

Of more than pity for the hapless foe, 

Or spent a fear or. that which Fate's decrees 

Already wrote amono- her victories. 

Wlien in the tumult of the battle van 

Shone fortune's darling, mounted Sheridan, 

Rapid to plan, and peerless in the fight. 

He plucked Fame's chaplets as by sovereign right; 

Emerged triumphant from a wild retreat, 

And blazoned victory's colors on defeat. 

I watched with Thomas while his wary glance 
Marked the rash foes their lieedless lines advance; 
Step after step he lured their willing feet 
Into the toils from which was no retreat; 
Then with a swoop, as when the eagle swings 
Out of his eyrie with the roar of wings. 
The veteran fell upon his venturous prey. 
And rolled his lines to mobs in wild dismay. 
But hark! what tidings from the west advance 
To choke Fame's voice and dim her shining glance^ 
Still are the lips that gave the wise command. 
Dark the controlling eye and cold the hand. 
That as the needle toward the northern sky. 
Pointed one way — the way to victory. 
Our annals hold secure the soldier's fame, 
A nation's glories cluster 'round his name; 
Ko deeds of his require the grace of song — 
Mere praise would do their simple grandeur wrong; 



296 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Turn from his honors, which he left to earth. 

And ponder what he bore to heaven: His worth? 

A simple nature in antiqne mould, 

Gentle, serene, child-tender, lion-bold; 

A heart with sympathies so broad and true 

That trust and love grew 'round him ere they knew; 

Open, sincere, unco ve tons and pure. 

Strong to achieve and patient to endure; 

Heedless of Fame he looked within himself, 

For that reward that neither prise nor pelf 

Can give the soul, whose naked virtues stand 

Before God's eye, beneath God's lifted hand. 

In the long future of this mortal hive. 

Who may predict what records will survive? 

A little shudder of earth's brittle crust, 

And man and man's renown were scattered dust. 

But in his day to Thomas it was given 

To sow his fields and gather fruits for heaven, 

Wliich neither W(3rm can gnaw nor care make dim, 

And these are deathless: these he took with him. 

Through anxious years I saw the martial flood 
Surge back and forth in waves of fire and blood; 
Sometimes it paused, and sometimes seemed to reel, 
Spent and exhausted from the rebels' steel; 
But every shock was sapping, blow by blow, 
The bars that backward held the overflow, 
Till suddenly the vein cracked and roared, 
And over all the human torrent poured ; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 297 

Then bloomed the harvest of our patient aims. 
Then bowed the world before our deeds and names, 
Tlien on the i^roudest of Fame's temple gates 
Shone novel records and thick crow^ded gates; 
iSTew wreaths were hung upon her horned shrines, 
Xew clarions blow before her martial lines; 
Fresh incense smoked, and fresh libations dripped; 
The vernal laurels from the hills were stripped, 
And woven in chaplets. Far and near the hum 
Of gladness ushered the returning drum — 
Welcome stood beckoning, looking toward the South, 
With cheers of welcome brimming in the mouth; 
Till came the rapture of that crowning hour, 
When the vast armies proved their awful power. 
In dense procession through the marble banks. 
That rang and quivered with a nation's thanks ; 
While, like a temple of the morning skj, 
August, sublime, refulgent, calm and high, 
Towered in its might, as symbol of the whole, 
The dome-crowned presence of the Capitol. 
I envy those whose tattered standards wavei 
Within the city which their valor saved: 
The Eastern heroes and their Western peers, 
The holy joy that glittered in their tears, 
As thronging upward to the nation's throne 
They knelt and sobbed and kissed the very stone. 
And thou brave Army, that hast borne the brunt 
Of stern repulse so often on thy front — 
Thou who hast rallied from each stunning blow 
With godlike patience, facing still the foe, 



298 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Thou moving pivot of the deadly fight 
Whose steadfast centre held all things aright, 
Twice saved us from the foe's audacious feet, 
And drove him howling through his last retreat, 
Hung on his steps until for peace he knelt 
And sued for mercj which he never felt. 
I thank just fortune that it was thy fate 
Alone to hurl the traitors from their state; 
Alone to make their capital thy prize, 
And watch the treason close its bloody eyes, 
O, roll, Potomac, prouder of thy name, 
Touched by the splendor of thy army's fame, 
Thrill with the steps of thy returning braves ! 
Wail through thy margins of uncounted graves! 
Laugh at the echo of thy soldiers' shout! 
Whisper their story to the lands about! 
Yes, feel each passion of the human soul. 
But roll, great river, in thy glory roll! 

Forget not here the nation's martyred chief. 

Fallen for the gospel of your own belief. 

Who e're he mounted to the people's throne 

Asked for your prayers and joined in them his own; 

I knew the man ; I see him as he stands 

With gifts of mercy in his outstretched hands ; 

A kindly light within his gentle eyes 

Sad as the toil in which his heart grew wise; 

His lips half-parted with the constant smile 

That kindled truth, but foiled the deepest guile; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 299 

His head bent forward, and liis willing ear 
Divinely patient right and wrong to hear; 
Great in his goodness, hnmble in his state, 
Firm in his purpose, yet not passionate, 
He led his people with a tender hand, 
And won by love a sway beyond command. 
Summoned by lot to mitigate a time 
Frenzied with rage, unscrupulous with crime, 
He bore his mission with so meek a heart 
That heaven itself took up his weary part; 
And when he faltered helped him ere he fell, 
Eking his efforts out by miracle. 
Xo king this man by grace of God's intent! 
No, something better — freeman — President! 
A nature modeled on a higher plan. 
Lord of himself, an inborn gentleman. 

Pass by his fate; forget the closing strife 
In the vast memories of his noble life; 
Forget the scene, the bravo stealing nigh. 
The pistol shot, the new-made widow's cry. 
The palsied people and the tears that ran 
O'er half a world to mourn a single man. 
But O remember while the mind can hold 
One record sacred to the days of old, 
The gentle heart that beats its life away 
Just as young morning donned his robe of gray, 
Stole through the tears beneath his golden tread, 
And touched in vain the eyelids of the dead! 



300 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Remember liim as one who died for right, 

With victories' trophies glittering in his sight; 

His mission finished, and the settled end 

Assured, and owned bj stranger foe and friend, 

Nothing ^vas left him but to taste the sweet 

Of triumph — sitting in the I^ation's seat. 

And for that triumph Heaven prepared its courts. 

And cleared its champaigns for unwonted sports; 

Summoned the spirits of the noble dead 

Who fell in battle for the cause he led. 

Soldiers and chiefs awakened from the clay 

And ranged their legions in the old array; 

There Lyon lead and Keaknet rode amain, 

And skilled McPherson drew his bridle-rein; 

Brave Reynolds marshaled his undaunted corps, 

And Sedgwick pressed to reach the front once more ; 

The star of Mitchell glittered over all, 

And Stevens answered Reno's bugle call ; 

Bayaed looked worthy of his knightly name, 

And Mansfield's eyes were bright with battle flame; 

Landers' grand brow was flushed with eager ire. 

And Strong arose from Wagner's roaring fire; 

There gallant Bufoed in the van was seen. 

And Cochran waved his flag of Irish green; 

Bieney's clear eyes were radiant with his faith; 

WiNTHEOP and Greble smiled at bafiled Death! 

Down Shaw's dark front a solemn purpose ran — 

The slave's resolve to prove himself — mere man. 

The heroes courage for that humble hope 

Was all that winged him up the bloody slope. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 301 

There bnrlj I^^elson blustered through his men, 

And RicHAEDSON deploj'ed his lines again; 

Baker looked thoughtful ! Wardswokth's liberal hand 

Pointed right forward; and the sharp command 

Of Smith's mild valor bore his soldiers on, 

As when it rang o'er fated Donelson! 

All these, and more, before the martjr's gaze. 
Passed through the shouts of Heaven's tumultuous 

praise ; 
The sound of clarions, and the choral songs 
Of rapture bursting from the seraph throngs. 
Passed like a pageant from the evening skies. 
But left a picture on celestial eyes. 
Whose tints shall deepen as the days increase. 
And shine a marvel in that Realm of Peace. 



MY MISSIOI^. 



Help me, O God! to do the work 

Before me set; 
Let me not falter in the step 

Scarce taken yet. 

If trials should beset my path 

Make me content — 
Willing to bear all burdens which 

By Thee are sent. 



30:^ SILVER SHEAVES. 

Tlirougli weary moments, which come through 

The life to all, 
Be Thou my guide, and lead me on 

Lest I should fall. 

If I grow weary marking out 

My own life-track. 
Strengthen me onward — I would have 

No turning back. 

If I have worshipped earthly shrines, 

Oh, God! forgive! 
Make me for other things than earth 

To hope and live. 

Deal gently with the erring heart 

Unto me given; 
Make it a pure and fitting thing 

For yonder Heaven. 



THE COMMON SOLDIER. 

BY O. P. 

Nobody cared when he went to war 

But the woman who cried on his shoulder; 

Nobody decked him with immortelles — 
He was only a common soldier. 

Nobody packed in a common trunk 
Folded raiment and officer's fare; 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 303 

A knapsack held all the new recruit 
Might own, or love, or eat, or wear. 

Nobody gave him a good-bye fete. 

With sparkling jest and flower-crowned wine; 
Two or three friends on the sidewalk stood, 

Watching for Jones, the fourth in line. 

Kobody cared how the battle went 

With the man who fought till the bullet sped 

Through the coat undecked with leaf or star — 
Only a common soldier left for dead. 

The cool rain bathed the fevered wound, 
And the clouds wept the livelong night; 

A pitying lotion Kature gave 

Till help might come with morning light. 

Such help as the knife of the surgeon gives. 
Cleaving the gallant arm from the shoulder; 

And another name swells the pension list 
For the meagre pay of a common soldier. 

See, over yonder, all day he stands ; 

An empty sleeve in the soft wind sways, 
As he holds the lonely left hand out 

For charity, at the crossing-ways. 

And this is how, with bitter shame, 
He begs his bread and hardly lives; 

So wearily ekes out the sum 

A proud and grateful (?) nation gives. 



304 SILVER SHEAVES, 

What matter how he served the guns 
"When plume and sash were over yonder? 

What matter though he bore the flag 

Through blinding smoke and battle thunder? 

What matter though a wife and child 
Cry softly for the good arm rent, 

And wonder why that random shot 
To him, their own beloved, was sent? 

Oh, patriot hearts! wipe out this stain; 

Give jeweled cup and sword no more; 
But let no Common Soldier blush 

To own the Loyal Blue he wore. 

Shput long and loud for victory won, 
By chief and leader staunch and true; 

But don't forget the boys that fought — 
Shout for the Common Soldier too. 



THE SOLDIER'S LETTER. 

The balmy southern night is slowly falling 

O'er vale and mountain's brow, 
And wrapping in its solemn dusky mantle 

One lone encampment now: 
Within his tent your soldier-boy is seated, 

Writing these lines to thee. 
And this shall be the burden of my letter — 

Dear Mother, pray for me. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 305 

STANZAS— BUILDING ON THE SAND. 

'Tis well to woo, 'tis well to wed, 

For sp the world hath done, 
Since myrtles grew and roses blew, 

And morning brought the sun. 
But have a care ye young and fair. 

Be sure you pledge witli truth; 
Be certain that your love will wear 

Beyond the days of youth ! 
For if you give not heart for heart 

As well as hand for hand, 
You'll iind you've played an unwise part 

And "built upon the sand." 

'Tis well to save, 'tis well to have 

A goodly store of gold, 
And hold enough of shining stuff, 

For charity is cold. 
But f)lace not all your Iiope and trust 

On what the deep mine brings; 
"We cannot live with yellow dust 

Unmixed with purer things, 
And he who piles up dust alone. 

Will often have to stand 
Beside his coffer chest and own. 

He "built upon the sand." 

'Tis good to speak in kindly guise, 

And sooth where'ere you can ; 
Fair speech should bind the human mind, 
And love like man and man. 
20 



306 



SILVER SHEAVES. 

But stay not at the gentle wordSy 

Let deeds with language dwell; 
The one who pities starving birds 

Should scatter crambs as well. 
The mercy that is warm and true 

Must lend a helping hand, 
For those that talk and fail to do 

But "build upon the sand." 



ON PICKET. 



Within a green and shadowy wood, 
Circled with spring, alone I stood; 
The nook was peaceful, fair and good. 
The wild plum blossoms lured the bees, 
The birds sang mildly in the trees ; 
Magnolia scents were on the breeze; 
All else was silent ; but the ear 
Caught sounds of distant bugle clear, 
And heard the whistling bullets near; 
When, from the winding river's shore 
The rebel guns began to roar, 
And our's, to answer, thundering o'er; 
And echoed from the wooded hill — 
Repeated and repeated still — 
Through all my soul they seemed to thrill; 
For, as their rattling storm awoke, 
And loud and fast the discord broke, 
In loud and trenchant vmrds they spoke: 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 

" We hate!'''' boomed fiercely o'er the tide; 
" We fear not! " from the other side. 
" We strilteP'' the rebel guns replied. 

Quick roared our answer: " We defend! " 
" Our rights " the battle sounds contend, 
" The rights of all! " we answer send: 
" We conquer!'^ rolled across the wave; 
" We persevere," our answer gave; 
" Our chivalry P^ they wildly rave. 
Of block and lash and overseer, 
And dark, mild faces pale with fear; 
Of baying hell-hounds panting near. 
But then the gentle story told. 
My childliood in the days of old 
Kano; out its lessons manifold. 
O, prodigal and lost! arise 
And read the welcome blest that lies 
In a kind Father's patient eyes! 
Thy elder brother grudges not, 
The lost and found shall share his lot, 
And wrong in concord be forgot. 
Thus mused I as the hours went by, 
Till the relieving guard drew nigh, 
And then M^as challenge and reply. 
And as I hastened back to line. 
It seemed an omen half divine 
That "concord" was the countersign. 
^* Ours are the hrave! " " Be ou7's the free! " 
" Be ours the slave; the masters vje ! " 
" On us no more their blood shall be! " 



307 



308 SILVER SHEAVES. 

And when same magic word is spoken, 
By which a wizard spell is broken, 
There was a silence at tliat token. 
The wild birds dared once more to sing, 
I heard the pine boughs whispering, 
And trickling of a silver spring. 
Then, crashing forth with snioke and din, 
Once more the rattling sounds begin; 
Our iron lips roll forth, " we win ! " 
And, dull and wavering in the gale, 
That rushes in gusts across the vale, 
Came back the faint reply, '■'■ loe fail / ^^ 
And then a word, both stern and sad. 
From throat of huge Columbiad: 

" Blind fools and traitors! ye are mad." 
x\gain the rebel answer came. 
Muffled and slow — as if in shame: 

'•' All — all is lost/-'' in smoke and flame. 
Now, bold and strong, and stern as fate. 
The Union guns send forth: "We wait!" 
Faint comes the distant cry: " Too late!'''' 

"Return! return," our cannon- said; 
And, as the smoke rolled overhead, 

" "We dare not! " was the answer dread. 
Then came a sound both loud and clear — 
A God-like word of hope and cheer: 

" Formveness! " echoed far and near. 
I thought of Shiloh's tainted air — 
Of Kichmond's prisons foul and bare. 
And murdered heroes, young and fair. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 309 

THE DYING SOLDIER. 

The setting sun threw golden ravs on lovely southern 

flowers ; 
And nature donned her brightest robes, enhanced by 

summer showers. 
The crimson clouds were all at rest in skies of deepest 

blue, 
And every shrub and waving tree assumed its bright- 
est hue. 
Alas that such a glorious sj)ot rebellious fruit should 

yield, 
That beauties such as these should cluster round the 

gory battle field ; 
The holy angels well might weep, at such a horrid 

strife. 
When brothers raised their blood stained hands to take 

a brother's life. 
With flashing eyes that glowed with hate, and hearts 

that would not fail, 
They stood and faced the cannon's mouth while balls 

flew -thick as hail; 
Then hand to hand the contest came, and hotter grew 

the fight. 
Until the stars and stripes, once more, burst on their 

gladdened sight. 
The booming cannon long had ceased- its sullen deadly 

roar, 
And men whose hearts beat high with hope lay swel- 
tering in their gore. 



310 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Blood ran in streams, all o'er the iield the dead lay 

piled around, 
For death in every shape and form went rushing; o'er 

the ground. 
With glazing eye and labored breath the wounded sol- 
dier lay, 
And sought to send some parting word to loved ones 

far away; 
The day he came his mother kissed her darling's lofty 

brow — 
His father blessed his only son, and he was dying now. 
The evening breeze was wafted in with songs of happy 

birds, 
While friends bent o'er and listened to his faintly 

whispered words: 
"Tell my father that I bless him, and with my latest 

breath 
Thank God and him I do not die a cringing coward's 

death ; 
My mother, oh, my mother! how I love you in this 

hour ! 
May God forever bless you, and shield you by his 

power ; 
My heart bled when I started, to hear your trembling 

sigh ; 
Oh, mother, mother! how 1 long to kiss you ere I die. 
Tell my sister not to mourn, but comfort those at 

home, 
And my parents will not have to bear this grief all 

alone. 



MSICEL-LANEOUS COLLECTION. 311 

And bear this rin^ to Jessie, there's mucli I wish to 

say, 
But I hear the angels calling and I must haste away." 
He faintly smiled, then tried to pray, then vainly 

gasped for breath. 
We stood and gazed in silent awe there all alone with 

de^ith; 
The curls lay thickly o'er his brow, the noble heart 

was still — 
He rests beneath a shady tree — a mark of southern 

skill. 



NO MORE DEATH. 

BY DR. ALEXANDER CLARKE. 

When winter is over and gone, and the time of the 
singing of birds is come, when the grass is beginning 
to spring forth and the flowers are soon to appear — 
when everything seems to have a pnlse, a breath and 
a voice, we are apt to forget that the summer will 
-begin so soon to wither all this tender beauty, and 
that autumn will chill and despoil what spring brings 
to our eyes and souls in nature; and that another win- 
ter with shroud and silence for all its outward coming 
life. But, as sure as there is change in the grass, and 
leaves and flowers, so is there change in these bodies 
of clay. As the growing grain, which so soon ripens 



312 SILVER SHEAVES. 

and is reaped, so our terrestrial forms grow up from 
tlie dust, in the dust shall be leveled and buried again. 
Death comes to us as a light wind, wandering 
through groves of bloom, detaching the delicate blos- 
soms from the tree; comes to us ^s a sweeping blast, 
crashing the tree to the earth. 

"Leaves have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the noitli wind's breath, 
And stars to set — but all — 

Thou hast all seasons for thine own oh Death!" 

Whatever of promise and beauty we see, yet this is 
a dying world. Immortality has no place under the 
circuit of the sun. That wliicli is deathless and ever 
blooming is far beyond these hills — mortality is here; 
immortality is yonder. Corruption is now; incorrup- 
tion is by and by, and forever. "JSTeitlier can they 
die any more " is not spoken of flowers, or of leaves, 
or grain, or trees, or present forms of men. For these 
all die; it is the divine prediction of something future. 
It compasses an eternal fact, and brings it to the soul. 
Every moment some child of Adam hurries away from 
earth. The Eden gate which opened toward tears and 
toils and homelessness has never yet been closed. 
The wages of sin is the whole world's currency. Each 
swing of the pendulum is the seal setting of some 
death warrant. 

Human beings die in number beyond the tickings 
of the clock, by day and night, on and on, the years 
and centuries through. Going — dying! dead and 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 313 

gone! This is the record of the swinging pendulum. 
Summer and winter, there and here; of old and new; 
as Time's vibrations mark tlie nearing judgment and 
eternity — it is death, death! one by one from first to 
last — every moment another death. Somewhere a 
hurried, gasping, closing breath — father, mother, sis- 
ter, brother, husband, wife, or darling child. 

Even in this early spring Sabbath, only put your 
ear to the ground, and you might hear from every 
direction the measured step of men who carry a corpse 
to its burial. The gate through which Adam and Eve 
were driven for disobedience has neither locks, nor 
bolts, nor bars. Disease enters the securest home, as 
a thief in the dark, and brings out the best treasure 
of all. The parsonage and prison are alike exposed. 
The pale, cold faces of rich and poor are the same in 
the cofiin. 

Tears have no sects or schools. There is unity in 
grief and in the grave. Who can stay the strong arm 
of death? Who can forbid his touch upon a nearest 
and dearest friend? When sickness comes you cannot 
turn away and say, " thou shalt not enter." When 
])aralysis crosses your threshold, and seizes you by the 
arm, of what avail to say, " unwelcome intruder, stand 
off!" Can you say to pain, "thou shalt not come 
nio;h me nor mine"? 

Can you face Death and defy his darts? Whatever 
your courage, your position, your influence, your 
choice, you shall one day be thrown prostrate and 
overcome and put in silence in the dust. Where is 



314 SILVER SHEAVES. 

the scholar, or the teacher, the physician, or the 
minister, who can enter the death chamber and pro- 
nounce the Talitha Cumi of resurrection? Where is 
the mighty one among us now who can lialt the 
funeral procession, look down upon the pulseless clay, 
and say arise? 

The voice of death sounds every whei*e abroad; but 
the word of life is only in the gospel, "The wages of 
sin is death," but Jesus Christ is the resurrection and 
the life. Death springs from the ground and claims 
the universal race, but life stoops from the skies and 
leads captivity captive. "Death is swallowed up in 
victory," and this is victory — even our faith. Each 
season speaks of death; the drooping spring blossom, 
the scorched leaf of summer, the ripe sheaf, and the 
fallen fruit of autumn, the bare drear ground and 
frozen snow of winter — all tell us of death. Storms 
and shadows, the lightning that scars and burns, the 
flood that drowns and devastates, the cold sea wave 
dampuing the shore, ebbing tides and crumbling rocks, 
up torn trees and garnered harvests— all are messen- 
gers to us of death. The sceptered monarch reigns 
over earth and sea, he cuts his way into every city, 
into every island, into every community, into every 
home. In almost every family a vacant chair, an 
empty cradle. In every garden a faded rose, in every 
forest a fallen tree, on every tree a shattered bough, on 
every bough a withered leaf. In all the old tunes we 
sing there are rests and silences, in every harp we 
take up there is a broken string. Just west of San 



iMISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 



31i 



Francisco, toward the sea, is Lone Mountain Cemetery, 
A rounded hill covered with evergreens and marble. 
The winds from the ocean blow among the quivering 
leaves, and make sad music as of invisible choirs 
chanting requiems for the dead. The sun sinks beyond 
the farthest circle of graves, and the darkness creeps 
up f)-om the land and the sea, and the white marble 
and the bright evergjreen are alike concealed in the 
midnight. But soon the east is kindled by the sunrise 
and the new day smiles all abroad; there is light once 
more, but no life. By and by our Son of Righteous- 
ness shall arise with healing in his wings, and all that 
are in their graves shall come forth. There shall be 
an eternal morning. But, here again, "the second 
Adam is a quickening spirit;" Jesus Christ who tasted 
death for every man is the conquorer of death. The 
grave is but the slumber ground for waking into glory. 
Death is but a sleep from which the sleeper shall 
awaken in the morning. The sunset becomes the sure 
sunrise, Eastward and forever! The truth of the resur- 
rection is here, and it shall burst in music upon thQ 
sleeping saints of God. Now, we must die; but for a 
saint to die is eternal gain. The complete destruction 
of death is at hand. The mighty God, who holds all 
worlds in their places, shall redeem His people from 
the grave's dominion. He is able. He has promised. 
And it shall be. Amen! and amen! The time for 
unlocking of sepulchres, for the rolling away of the 
great stone, is coming. It is a divine fact wrought 
into this world's grandest biography already. For, 



316 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



now is Christ risen! We are started in a pathway that 
leads through the grave's dark portals to light and 
immortality, to thrones and principalities and power. 
Though we die, we shall live again. Though we have 
toil and trouble for awhile, we shall be kings and 
priests unto God forever. Death is here, to be sure, 
greedy for us — grasping for us; but, brethren, these 
blessed spirit wings, they shall bear us to life up yon- 
der, and we shall live forevermore. There shall be no 
more crying nor any more pain; nor any more death. 
Pilgrims and strangers here, but yonder friends and 
companions with Jesus. That which is sown in weak- 
ness, shall be raised in power. Man was not made to 
die, but live. God does not love death, nor does He 
desire this gloomy death perpetuated. This desolation 
and ruin in the great temple of humanity are the 
results of sin. Justice from the beginning of trans- 
gression demands the execution of the sentence: " In 
the day thou eatest thereof, tliou shalt surely die ! '' 
This world was made with a garden, and no sepulchre. 
But, blessed be God! in a 'New Testament garden 
there is a new sepulchre! These eyes were not made 
to weep, but to sparkle witli gladness. Do your lips 
ever murmur? They were formed to speak praise. 
Do you get sick? You were made to be .healthful. 
Do you die? You were made to live, and these con- 
sequences of sin, the divine Savior will utterly over- 
come, so that you cannot die. 

The day of Christ's final victory is coming nearer 
and nearer every hour. "I will ranson trom the power 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 317 

of tlie grave; I will redeem from the power of the 
grave; I will redeem from death." "O, grave I will 
be thy destruction !" There is for us a better life and a 
better time. Like the cadence of an angel song, and 
yet with the power of the omnipotent, come the thought 
of our departed loved ones. "Keither can they die 
any more." We look up, march forward and take 
strength. The heart of mercy bounds the victor thrill 
of the resurrection. The arm that broke the grave's 
bars down is still outsretched to conquer for all the 
saints a full salvation. The death reign shall be ended, 
Satau shall be bound; our faith shall overcome the 
world and have the victory. J^otice, it is not "neither 
shall" or "neither may," but "neither can they die any 
more." Death is now the law, then it will be an ab- 
solute impossibility. Blessed home, blessed life, res- 
urrection is only the lowest round of this ladder, 
whose foot is planted by the open grave, and whose 
top rests upon the throne. 

Resurrection, ascension and eternal glory! New 
Jerusalem shall never crumble down. The white robes 
shall never need cleaning or renewal. The glass 
through which we now see darkly, shall be thrown 
aside, and we shall behold Jesus face to face, and be 
like him. 



318 SILVER SHEAVES. 

TOBACCO. 



Come old and young and hear me tell 
How strong tobacco smokers smell, 
Who love to smoke their pipes so well, 
That for tobacco they would sell 
{Their right to social union. 

II. 

They always scent the atmosphere. 
And you may know when they are near, 
Though not a word from them you hear. 
Their breath grows stronger every year, 
While in the smoking union. 

III. 

They clean their pipe stems with a wire. 
Then fill the bowl and put in fire. 
And smoke till it does quite expire, 
Kor do they ever seem to tire. 
In this laborious union. 

IV. 

Sometimes from three to six you'll see 

Collected in one company. 

And every fellow in good glee; 

They then must have a smoking spree — 

A fetid smoking union. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 319 



And then the fumes and smoke will rise, 
Like morning mist toward the skies; 
Then woe to him who has weak eyes, 
Unless he takes his leave and flies 
Away from such a union. 

VI. 

With impudence the}^ oft' presume 
To vex all persons in the room, 
Who can't endure tobacco fume — 
And they must bear this wretched doom. 
Or, leave this smoking union. 

VII. 

Some keep the mone}' from the poor, 
And send the hungry from the door. 
And haste away to some one's store. 
And spend it for tobacco more, 
To burn in smoking union. 

VIII. 

Those who in utter darkness lie. 
May in their error live and die. 
Before those persons e'er will try 
Them with the gospel to supply. 
To teach them heavenly union. 

IX. 

I wonder how such folks can saj 
They have religion every day. 



320 SILVER SHEAVES. 

And love the Lord and love to pray 
When they his money smoke away 
In guilty conscience, union. 



There are some who tobacco chew, 
And though it often makes them spew, 
And makes them drunk as Bacchus, too, 
The practice they will still pursue, 
At the expense of social union. 

XI. 

Sometimes within their neighbor's door 
They'll cast their quids, some three or four, 
And spit on carpet, hearth and floor, 
Sometimes a gill, or even more, 
And talk of social union. 

XII. 

Oft times within the church you'll view 
That person's there will sit and chew, 
And spit upon the floor oj pew 
Until it spreads a foot or two. 
And sing of heavenly union. 

XIII. 

The quid is oft so large within 

The juice runs out and stains the chin; 

And then I always have to grin. 

And think there is no little sin 

In this tobacco union. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 321 

WELCOME TO THE NATIONS. 

BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

Bright on the banners of lilly and rose, 

Lo! the last sun of our century sets! 
Wreathe the black cannon that scowled on our foes ; 

All but lier friendships the Nation forgets ; 

All but her friends and their welcome forgets; 
These are around her. But where are her foes? 

Lo! while the sun of her century sets, 
Peace, with her garlands of lilly and rose. 

Welcome! a shout like the war-trumpet SM'^ell 

Wakes the wild echoes that slumber around; 
Welcome? it quivers from Liberty's bell; 

Welcome! the walls of her temple resound. 

Hark! the gray walls of her temple resound; 
Fade the fair voices o'r hill-side and dell. 

Welcome! still whispers the echoes around; 
Welcome! still trembles on Liberty's bell. 

Thrones of the Continents! Isles of the Sea! 

Yours are the garlands of peace we entwine ; 
Welcome, once more, to the land of the Free, 

Shadowed alike by the palm and the pine. 

Softly they murmur, the palm and the pine: 
"Hushed is our strife, in the land of the Free." 

Over your children their branches entwine, 
Thrones of the Continents! Isles of the Sea! 
21 



322 SILVER SHEAVES. 

FATHER, IS THIS THE WAY? 



Father, is this the way? 
This narrow, rugged path — the way my feet must go ? 
I see no sheltering tree, no green brancli waving low 
O'er the rough defile, while fervid is the glow 
Of cloudless noonday sun — and fears distress me so; 

Father, is this the way? 

II. 

Father, is this the way? 
Is this the road that brings me nearer Thee? 
Is there no other way? Far lovelier paths I see — 
Flower-strewn and shady walks — soft winding through 

the lea, 
While this is straight and steep — this one marked 
out for me. 

Is there no other way? 

in. 

Father is this the way? 
I fear my faltering feet will slip — that I shall fall 
Back in the miry pit that held me long in thrall: 
I dread to taste again the wormwood and the gall. 
Father, O! hear ray cry — answer my earnest call — 

Is there no other way? 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 323 

IV. 

Father, is thia the way? 
Must I this burden bear, far up the giddy height 
Whose top, like jasper walls, is bathed in crystal 

light? 
So steep, so far, it seems to my imperfect sight, 
'Twere vain to try to reach it ere 'tis lost in night. 

Is there no other way ? 



Father, is this the way? 
Ah, yes! I scan the path and see Thy foot-prints 

there. 
And lo! great shadowy rocks, shielding from sun 

and air. 
Quite unperceived before, I find, for rest and prayer, 
With angels, waiting near the message home to bear. 
Father, I know the way. 

VI. 

Father, I love the way! 
And light my burden seems, and firm my onward 

tread. 
While upland breezes float flower perfumed round 

my head; 
From living springs my thirsty soul is sweetly fed; 
Angels attend my steps, and every fear has fled. 
Father, I love the way! 



324 SILVER SHEAVES. 

HOME. 



BY TIKZAH H, 



Home ! what a source of pleasure's there, 
Where we the joys of friends may share, 
And join them in their social glee 
With hearts from care and sorrow free. 

Home! says the traveler, far away, 
When shall I see that happy day, 
When I at Home shall happy be — 
From this fatigue and journey free. 

Home! says the soldier; Home once more 
From weary march and cannon roar; 
Home to my friends, who still prove true 
To the dear Old Flag — Red White and Bhie. 

Home! says the christian, and his eye 
Turns to the heavens so bright on high, 
Where He, when his sad life is o'er. 
Will meet with those who've gone before. 

Home has a charm for every care. 
For all who this sweet comfort share; 
Their broken hearts may find relief, 
And drive away the sorest grief. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 

LIFE'S LOT. 

I know not if the dark or bright, 

Shall be my lot; 
If that wherein my hopes delight, 

Be best or not. 
It may be mine to drag for years, 

Toil's heavy chain; 
Or day and night my meat be tears. 

On bed of pain. 
Dear faces may surround my hearth, 

With smiles and glee; 
Or I my dwell along and mirth 

Be strange to me. 
My bark is wafted to the strand. 

By breath divine; 
And on the helm there 's a hand 

Other than mine. 
One who has known in storms to sail, 

I have on board; 
Above the raging of the gale 

I hear my Lord. 
He holds me with the billows' smile — 

I shall not fail ; 
If sharp, 'tis short — if long, 'tis light. 

He tempers all. 
Safe to the land — safe to the land, 

The end is this: 
And then with Hira go hand in hand 

Far into bliss. 



325 



326 SILVER SHEAVES. 

CHRISTMAS COMING. 

Of all the days throughout the year, 
The gladdest day and best ; 

Comes in the heart of winter, 
When nature is at rest. 

When the days are the shortest, 
And the nights are dark and long; 

And only of the singing bird, 
The robin pipes his song. 

When not a flower is on the hill, 
Nor a green leaf in the tree; 

And only the holly and ivy 
Are beautiful to see. 

Then cometh the best day of the year, 

The blessed day of all ; 
When Jesus Christ, the Savior, 

Was born in the oxens' stall. 

Not amid gold and purple, 
In pomp of worldly pride; 

With chancelors and archbishops 
And ladies on every side. 

But, all among the oxen. 

Those plodding and patient things; 
Was born in the depth of winter. 

The King of earthly kings. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 327 

NO ROSE WITHOUT A THORN. 

No rose without a thorn, 
Without the husk, no corn; 
No nut without the shell. 
Without the hill no dell. 

No joy without some woe. 
No scene all bright below; 
Some bitter with the sweet. 
No bone without the meat. 

No rose without the thorn. 
Without the night no morn ; 
No star without the night, 
No Luna's welcome light. 

No life but has its pain, 
The sunshine brings the rain; 
No love without its cross, 
No gold without some dross. 

No rose without a thorn, 
No face of beauty born 
But has imperfect spot. 
The thorns in fairest lot. 



328 SILVER SHEAVES. 

MY PSALM. 

BY J. G. WniTTIEE. 

I mourn no more my vanished years, 

Beneath a tender rain ; 
An April rain of smiles and tears, 

My heart is young again. 

The West winds blow and singing low, 
I hear the glad streams run ; 

The windows of my soul I throw 
Wide open to the sun. 

^'o longer forward nor behind, 

I look in hope or fear; 
But grateful take the good I find, 

The best of now and here. 

I plow no more the desert land. 
To harvest weed and tare; 

The manna dropping from God's hand, 
Rebukes my painful care. 

I break my pilgrim staff, I lay 

Aside the toiling oar; 
The angel sought so far away, 

I welcome to my door. 

The airs of spring may never play 
Among the ripening corn; 

Nor freshness of the flowers of May 
Blow throuofh the autumn morn. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 329 

Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look, 
Through fringed lids to heaven; 

And the pale aster, in the brook 
Shall spe its image given. 

The woods shall wear their robes of praise. 

The South wind softly sigh; 
And sweet calm days in golden haze. 

Melt down the amber sky. 

Not less shall manly deed and word. 

Rebuke an age of wrong; 
The graven flowers that 'neath the sword, 

Make not the blade less strong. 

But smiting hands shall learn to heal, 

To build as to destroy ; 
Kor less my heart for others feel, 

That I the more enjoy. 

All as God wills who wisely heeds,- 

To give or to withhold; 
And knoweth more of all my needs, 

Than all my prayers have told. 

Enough that blessings undeserved, 

Have marked my erring track; 
That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved, 

His chastening turned me back. 



330 SILVER SHEAVES, 

That more and more of Providence, 
Of love, is understood; 



Making the springs of time and sense, 
Sweet with eternal good. 

That death seems but a covered way, 

"Which opens into light; 
Wherein no blinded child can stray, 

Beyond the Father's sight. 

That care and trial seem at last, 
Through memory's sunset air, 

Like mountain's ranges over-past, 
In purple distance fair. 

That all the jarring notes of life, 

Seem blending in a psalm, 
And all the angels of its strife. 

Slow sounding into calm. 

And so the shadows fall apart, 
And so the West winds play, 

And all the windows of my heart 
I open to the day. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 



331 



COAL HILL OPPOSITE GREENVILLE, PA. 

Bold mount whose winter blasted side 

Sweeps up toward the niiduight moon, 
What histories in thy depths abide, 

And will till comes the shock of doom ! 
The wind-sung shadows sweep about 

Thy rocky ramparts, wild and cold, 
Like dusky banners night flings out, 

And leaves the stealthy morn to fold. 

Through thy umbrageous aisles of old 

Full many a hymn the wild winds sung; 
And many a savage war-whoop rolled 

Through lonely depths with darkness hung. 
And many a screaming wild bird swept; 

There crawled the snake, and hissed his spite 
Around his bramble-matted nest; 

And there the panthers howled at night, 
And storm-rocked eagles sunk to rest. 

But time hath chased the shades of old; 

A full free breath of life hath blown, 
And riches long in depths withheld 

Send their broad smoke wreaths round thy throne. 
O mount, forever proudly stand. 

Though man has scarred thy stately form, 
For thou art in thy silence grand, 

A page to read in calm or storm. 
How many eyes that gazed from thee. 

Once bright with boyhood's dreams and trust, 
Have come, as mine have come, to see 

Much once beloved returned to dust. 



332 SILVER SHEAVES. 

SWEET TWILIGHT HOUR. 

Sweet twilight hour, I love thee well, 
. Far better than all hours beside, 
For in thy rich and softened light 

The busy cares of day I hide. 
Thy gentle light, like smiles of love, 

Kests on each object that I see, 
And beautiful they then appear 

Clothed with new beauty flower and tree. 

If far away to yonder hill 

In listless gaze I turn my eyes, 
Thy deepening shadows blend in one 

The trees that from its summit rise; 
The mighty ocean with its waves 

Seems murmuring music to my ear, 
As in thy still and quiet hour 

Methinks its cadences I hear. 

Sweet twilight hour, how fraught thou art, 

With power to sooth the weary soul. 
To elevate our hearts, and cause 

Serenest thought through them to roll; 
Each note of music and each sound. 

At thine all hallowed hour, 
More rich in melody appears, 

And greater in his power. 

Sweet twilight hour how many a tale 
Of love thou oft dost tell. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 333 

Of whisperiog zephyrs wooing love 
In some enchanting delh 

'Tis then I love to hie myself 

To some sequestered spot, 
And feel thy cool air fan my brow, 

While cares are all forgot. 

'Tis then I love to hold commune 

"With God and nature too. 
To feel his spirit brooding o'er. 

As falls the gentle evening dew; 
To feel my soul communing with 

The spirit of the air, 
And realize that God is near, 

Around, yet everywhere. 



FREE. 

By the blood our fatliers shed, 
By the graves of martyred dead, 
By the land we dearly love. 
By the stars that shine above, 
We are free. 

By our mountains and our hills, 
By our rivers and onr rills, 



33i 



SILVER SHEAVES. 

By our friends and firesides dear, 
By our birthright bright and clear, 
We are free. 

By the flag that floats afar. 
By the thunder tones of war, 
By the fields so nobly won, 
By the deeds of glory done. 
We are free. 



FOR YOU. 

HY EEV. H. B. HAETZLEK. 

There is for you a sphere of toil, 
And God would liave you fill it; 

A field of rich and fruitful soil 
Awaits your hand to till it. 

There is somewhere a mine of gold 
Beneath the rocks that bind it, 

Whose hiding-place the mountains hold, 
And none but you may find it. 

There is somewhere a tuneful lyre 
That waits your touch to wake it. 

Whose music will your heart inspire. 
And bless the hands that take it. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 335 

There is somewhere a burden laid 

On arms too weak to bear it, 
And wistful eyes and heart dismayed 

Look up to you to share it. 

Then train your hand for fruitful toil 

Upon the field of labor; 
Nor wait for fortune's hazard spoil 

On fancy's dazzling Tabor. 

With heart and mind alert and strong, 

•Confront your lot and take it; 
While God is true and chance is wrong, 
Your life is what you make it. 



CLOUDS AND SUNSHINE. 

Sweet in nature to behold them, 

Cloud and sunshine, light and shade, 
God in beauty doth unfold them. 

Earth by each is fairer made. 
Never day so darkly clouded 

But above in beauty fair. 
Though from earthly vision shrouded, 

Bright the sun was shining there. 

Sorrow clouds will gather o'er us, 

And the sun of joy is dim; 
Christ hath trod the vale before us, 

Trusting, let us follow Him. 



330 SILVER SHEAVES. 

IS^ever sorrow bath He given 
But some cause for joy remain; 

Faith looks up, the cloud when riven 
Will reveal the sun again. 

Clouds and sunshine changing ever 

Scenes through which we journey now, 
But there falls a shadow never 

Where the happy spirits bow. 
Could we in the light of heaven 

View the way through which we go, 
Why our darkened hours are given, 

Why our trials we might know. 



LINES ON A SKELETON. 

Behold this ruin ! 'Twas a skull 
Once, of etherial spirit full ; 
This narrow cell was life's retreat; 
This space was thought's myterious seat. 
What beauteous visions filled this spot I 
What dreams of pleasure, long forgot; 
Nor hope, nor joy, nor love, nor fear, 
Have left no trace of record here. 

Beneath this mouldering canopy 
Once shone the bright and busy eye; 
But start not at the dismal void — 
If social love that eye employed — 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 

If with no lawless fire it gleamed, 

But throuffli the dew of kindness beamed— 

That eye shall be forever bright 

When stars and sun are sunk in night. 

Within this hollow cavern hung 

The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue; 

If falsehood's honey it disdained, 

And where it could not praise, was chained; 

If bold in virtue's cause it spoke. 

Yet gentle concord never broke; 

This silent tongue shall plead for thee 

When time unveils eternity. 

Say, did those fingers delve the mine? 
Or, with envied rubies shine? 
To hew the rock or wear the gem. 
Can little now avail to them? 
But if the page of truth they sought. 
Or comfort to the mourner brought. 
These hands a richer meed shall claim 
Than all that wait on wealth or fame. 

Avails it whether bare or shod 
These feet the depths of duty trod? 
If from the halls of ease they fled. 
To seek affliction's humble shed; 
If grandeur's guilty bribe they spurned, 
And home to virtue's cot returned; 
These feet with angels' wings shall vie, 
And tread the palace of the sky. 
22 



337 



338 SILVER SHEAVES. 

LINES. 

Alone I walked the ocean's strand, 
A pearl shell was iu my hand; 
I stopped and wrote upon the sand 
Mj name, the year, the day. 

As ownward from that spot I passed 
One lingering look behind me cast; 
A wave came dashing, high and full. 
And washed those lines away. 

So, methought, 'twould shortly be, 
When every trace and memory of me, 
A wave of the dark oblivious sea 
Would wash those lines away. 



THE BETHEL DEEAM. 

The sun behind Judea's hills 
Had calmly sunk to rest. 

And bright its Iris banner streamed 
Within the crimsoned west. 

The silver-sandaled feet of day 
Had sought the hills of blue, 

And seraphs the door that hides 
The spirit world from view. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 

Weary the Bethel dreamer stood 

Upon the shadowy plain, 
To watch, perchance, the sunbeams glide 

Away from earth again. 

While stars climbed np the azure dome. 

And silently did stray, 
Amid the trembling ether depths, 

To hill-tops bare and gray. 

Exhausted on the earth he sank — 

His pillow 'twas of stone; 
As from the sapphire halls above 

His ladder down was thrown. 

From lowly earth to vaulted skies. 

From Heaven's jasper wall, 
Adown the burnished rounds of gold 

The angel's foot-beats fall. 

Our hopes, resolves, and prayers — 
The bribe we thrust away — 

Methinks these are the steps that lead 
IJs up the shining way. 

The vision fades, the dream departs, 

The ladder is withdrawn; 
The stony pillow but remains, 

And the angels, too, have gone. 

No crown for us but one of thorns; 

No robes save those of clay; 
What wonder that to earth we cling, 

E'en though we aspire to pray? 



339 



o-tO SILVER SHEAVES. 

JUST ELEVEN. 

Three years ago to-daj, 

We raised our hands to heaven, 
And on the rolls of muster 

Our names were thirty-seven. 
There were just a thousand bayonets, 

And the swords were thirty-seven 
As we took the oath of service 

With our right hands raised to heaven. 

O 'twas a gallant day 

In memory still adored, 
That day of our sunlight nupitials, 

With the musket and the sword. 
Shrill rang the fife the bugles blared, 

And beneath a cloudless heaven 
Twinkled a thousand bayonets. 

And the swords were thirty-seven. ; 

Of the thousand stalwart bayonets 

Two hundred march to-day: 
Hundreds lie in Virginia's swamps. 

And hundreds in Maryland clay. 
And other hundreds less happy, drag 

Their shattered limbs around. 
And env}^ the deep long blessed sleep 

Of the battle field's holy ground. 

For the swords, one night a week ago, 
The remnant just eleven. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 341'. 

Gathered around a banqueting board, 

"With seats for thirty-seven. 
There were two h'mped in on crutches, 

And two had each but a liand 
To pour the wine and raise the cup. 

As we toasted "Our flag and land." 

And the room seemed filled with whispers 

As we looked at the vacant seats. 
And with choking throats we pushed aside 

The rich, but un tasted meats; 
Then in silence we brimed our glasses, 

As we rose up just eleven. 
And bowed as we drank to the loved and dead, 

Who had made us thirty-seven. 



LINES. 

Flowers on the graves of loved ones 

They of worth affection still, 
The tablet marks the sacred spot 

But holds no mystic spell. 
It speaks not of remembrance still, 

Nor of the falling tear, 
Nor of the lonely heart that decks 

With flowers the loved one's bier. 



342 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Flowers on the graves of loved ones, 

Show a kind and tender care, 
And they tell the stranger passing. 

That a loved one's sleeping there. 
Yes, they speak of kind devotion, 

And of friendship, noble, true. 
For they prove the living ever 

Keep their dead, their loved in view. 

Flowers on the graves of loved ones, 

Speak as can no sculptured art. 
And the grave that's decked with flowers 

Show the work of loving hearts ; 
Stops the stranger and he lingers 

Long to view that sacred mound. 
For he feels where love has labored 

That it must be hallowed ground. 

Flowers on the graves of loved ones 

Prove communion, holy, sweet, 
For they show the dead and living 

Beyond the vale each other greet. 
Yes they're still the loved companions, 

N^ot in form but spirit true. 
And these little acts of kindness. 

They bring back the loved to view. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 343 

"JESUS ONLY." 

Christian are you sad and weary, 
Lone and desolate and dreary ? 
Have the clouds obscured thy vision 
Of the golden fields ely sian ? 

Look about thee, none can help ! 
When thou 'rt sad, dejected, lonely, 

Kone can drive away the clouds; 
l^one can help but " Jesus only." 

When upon the raging water, 
Peter's faith began to falter — 
On that dark and troubled sea. 
Wild, tempestuous Gallilee! 

Peter saw that none could help. 
On the water bleak and lonely; 

Raised his voice in prayer, and saw 
Kight before him " Jesus only." 

He can calm the stormy billow — 
Make as down thy dying pillow; 
Calm the pulse and still the fever 
Of the penitent believer; 

Then above thee look for help, 
When the heart is sad and lonely; 

JSTone can bid thy heart rejoice 
With delight, save " Jesus only." 

When the earth shall part asunder, 
As the trumpet's awful thunder 



344 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Shall proclaim that Time is ending, 
With eternity is blending; 

When mankind its sentence waits, 
Christian, thou shalt not feel lonely; 

For, upon the judgment seat 
Who shall sit, but " Jesus only." 



THE PAESON GOING TO MILL. 

The parson sat in his house one day, 
While the winter storm did rage; 

High-rapt he drank in lofty thought 
From Hooker's classic page. 

But, as he sat, and holy dreams 
Into his heart did steal. 

His sweet wife opened the door and said: 
" My dear, we have no meal." 

With saddened brow and heavy sigh, 

He laid aside his book ; 
And with a meek, despairing eye 

Upon the hearth did look. 
" My people think that I must break 

To them the bread of heaven; 
But they '11 not give me bread enough 

Three whole days out of seven." 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 345, 

But hunger is a serious thing, 

And it is sad to hear 
Sweet children's mournful cry for bread, 

Loud ringing in your ear. 
So, straight he mounted his old horse, 

With meek and chastened will; 
And on his meal bag, patched and coarse, 

He journeyed to the mill. 

The miller bowed to him, and said: 

" Sir, by your church-steeple, 
I vow I give you praise for this — 

But none to your church-people! " 
The parson mounted his old horse. 

He had no time to lag. 
And rode like a hero to his home, 

Right on his old meal bag. 

But as he rode, he overtook 

A proud and wealthy layman, 
Who with a close astonished gaze 

The parson's bag did scan. 
" My reverend friend, the truth to tell, 

It makes me feel quite wroth, 
To see you comjDromise this way, 

The honor of your cloth. 

" Why told you not, my honored friend, 

Your meal was running low; 
What will the neighbors think of us, 

If to the mill you go? " 



346 SILVER SHEAVES. 

" My wealthy friend," tlie parson said, 
" You must not reason so. 

For 'tis a fixed and settled thing. 
My meal is always low. 

" If my dear people wish to know 

How to promote my bliss, 
I'll simply say, a bag of meal 

Will never be amiss. 
Just keep the store-room well supplied, 

And I will be right still. 
But if the meal gives out again, 

I must go to the mill." 

MOKAL. 

Laymen! it needs no miracle, 

No hard laborious toil; 
To make the parson's meal-bag 

Like the widow's cruise of oil. 
Pour forth into his wife's store-room, 

Your gifts right plentiful ; 
The miracle is simply this: 

To keep it alawys full. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 347 

IN MEMORY OF FATHER AND MOTHER. 

BY SISTER LIZZIE. 

FATHER. 

Of that grand life, it might be said 

He walked bj faith, as daj by day 

Death's shadows darkened round him, 

Yet bis Mtli was firm that God would take him 

When his weary pilgrimage was o'er. 

Even now, after the lapse of many years. 

Memory brings back the dear familiar face 

In its accustomed place, just where 

The evening light would linger ere 'twas hid 

Behind the western hills. 

Across the meadows, and the woodland cool and dim, 

The dim outlines of the old white church were seen, 

AVliere he had worshiped ere disease 

Had stripped him of his strength; 

And just beyond, upon the grassy slope 

Of the green hill-side, were the graves 

Of many a dear one gone before. 

And where he, too, hoped soon to be at rest. 

After a life of care and toil it would be sweet 

In peace to sleep. 

There came a day when he was missed 

From the old window seat — 

When in a darkened room he lay, 

So pale and still, save for the hollow cough 

That told his work on earth was done. 



348 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



It was not long, only a few short weeks, 
And then death called for him, 
And found him ready, waiting to go home, 
Leaving the rich legacy of a life well spent. 

MOTHER. 

Dear Mother, many a fleeting year 

Has hurried by 
Since in thy shroud and on thy bier 

I saw thee lie. 
And, dear mother, it seems to me 

A weary way. 
My heart oft wanders from its guide — 

My feet will stray. 
O, might I know the perfect peace 

Which now is thine; 
O, might I go and dwell with thee — 

Thy home be mine. 
Tet, let me learn to bide my time 

With patient heart. 
And let me labor faithfully 

Till I depart; 
For life, with all its hopes and fears, ] 

Will soon be o'er. 
And then thy loved ones may behold 

Thy face once more. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 349 

FAMILY GATHERING. 

Tes, thej all came home together 

To the old house on the farm; 
Fathers, mothers, little chidren — 

But the day had lost a charm. 
Oh! the places 'round the fireside! 

Places that the stranger fills: 
Oh! the cold and dreary north-wind 

'Round the graves at Malvern Hill! 

Out upon the bleak brown hill-side, 

Where the restless pine trees moan, 
One is lying in their shadow. 

Through this autumn light alone. 
With his soldier-cloak around him 

He is resting from the strife. 
But we could not smooth his pillow — 

Could not cheer the parting life. 

One more, wounded at Antietam, 

In his boyhood stricken down — 
Clay-cold cheek, and brow of marble 

Resting on its laurel crown ; 
Slowly, tenderly, they brought him 

In New England soil to rest. 
So we wreathed the white immortelles 

And laid them on his breast. 

Hark! the chime of soft sweet voices, 
Music ringing through the hall; 



350 SILVER SHEAVES. 

But a sound no tongue can utter, 

Murmuring through its rise and fall. 

Like the far-off noise of armies — 
Like the hollow roll of drums; 

From that dim, blue line of waters, 
Sadly, plaintively, it comes. 

Blind and foolish we who murmur; 

Holy, powerful and calm 
God is guiding on the people, 

Though we may not feel his arm. 
Something clearer than the star-light 

Sleeps upon those quiet graves — 
Glows above the blue Potomac, 

Glows above its storied waves. 

In their watches on the mountain 

They have seen his rising star; 
They have looked upon his beauty; 

He is with them where they are. 
So we kept a glad Thanksgiving 

In this year of grief and care. 
And we heard their spirit voices 

When we said our evening prayer. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 351 

A TEACHER'S DEEAM. 

The wearj teacher sat alone 

While twilight gathered on ; 
And not a sound was heard around — 

The girls and boys were gone. 

Another round, another round 

Of labor thrown away; 
Another chain of care and pain 

Draged through a tedious day. 

"Of no avail is patient toil, 

Love's strength is vainly spent, 
Alas," he said, and bowed his head. 

In lonely discontent. 

But rising soon a saddened face, 

He started back aghast. 
The room by strange and wondrous change 

Grew to proj)ortions vast. 

It seemed a senate hall, and one 

Addressed a listening throng; 
Each burning word all bosoms stirred — 

Applause rose loud and long. 

The sad spectator thought he knew 

The speaker's voice and look, 
"And for his name," he said, "the same 

Is on my record book." 



352 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Slow disappeared the senate hall, 

A church rose in its place; 
A preacher there outpoured a prayer 

Invoking Heaven's grace; 

And though he spoke in solemn tone, 
And though his hair was gray, " 

The teacher's thought was strangely wrought, 
"I whipped that boy to-day." 

The church was gone — a chamber dim, 

Was next obscurely shown ; 
There among his books, with earnest looks 

An author sat alone. 

"My idlest lad!" the teacher said, 

Filled with a new surprise; 
Shall I behold his name enrolled 

Among the great and wise?" 

Now rising humbly to the view 

A cottage was descried; 
A mother's face illumed the place, 

Her spirit sanctified. 

"A miracle!" the teacher cried, 

"This matron well I know, 
Was but a wild and careless child, 

Not half an hour ago. 

And when she to her children speaks 
Of duty's golden rule, 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 353 

Her lips repeat in accents sweet 
My words to her at scliool." 

The scene was changed again, and lo! 

The school house rude and old; 
Upon the wall did darkness fall — 

The evening air was cold. 

"A dream!" the sleeper wakening said, 

And paced along the floor ; 
Then whistling slow, and soft and low, 

He locked the school house door. 

And walking home his heart was full 
Of peace and trust and love and praise, 

And singing slow and soft and low, 
He murmurred, "After many days." 



THE OLD MUSKET. 

It has hung for many years 

Against the farm-house wall. 
And a dingy rust has thrown 

Its mantle over all. 
'T was a grandsire's hand did wield 

This weapon long ago, 
And the barrel is worn with lead 

That sped against the foe. 



23 



354 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Oftentimes did the old man, 

Long since gone to his rest, 
Take the old piece fondly down 

And press it to his breast; 
'T was a well-tried friend, he said, 

In many a bloody fight — 
Then of Bunker Hill he told. 

And trembling clutched it tight. 

How his dear face brightened up 

As he marched o'er the floor, 
While his thoughts dwelt proudly on 

Those glowing scenes of yore; 
When his bleeding country bade 

Him join the noble band. 
That dismayed and shattered drove 

The hirelings from our land. 

It has hung for many years 

Against the farm-house wall, 
And a dingy rust has thrown 

Its mantle over all; 
But I prize the old worn piece, 

For his sake who lias gone, 
And the fancies fond and pure 

That at its sight are bom. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 355 

'•THE WINE-CUP DID IT ALL." 

[The last words of a young mayi toho teas hung in E ngland Jot' 
the murder of a younger brother ivhile in a fit of intoxication.] 

I. 

The drop was ready, and the crowd 

Stood breathless in the sun, 
While pealed the prison bell most loud 

The appointed liour of one; 
Some ej^es were wild, and some were wet, 

And some were closed to pray ; 
" Prisoner, we wait a moment yet 

If you have aught to say." 

II. 

The young man looked upon the drop, 

Then cast a wistful eye 
Toward his father's chimney top 

And native village nigh; 
The vanished joys of early years. 

He dimly did recall. 
Then said with quivering lip and tears: 

"The wine-cup did it all." 

III. 

" I struck the blow — the proof is clear — 

But give to me my due. 
My brother was as dear to me 

As any one to you; 



356 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Upon his fair and tender brow 
My warmest kiss did fall — 

I loved him then, I love him now: 
The wine-cup did it all." 

rv. 

They bore his form — of friends bereft, 

Where riteless graves were found, 
And there the twilight sunshine left 

The shadow on his mound; 
And often there, by moonlight dim, 

The village lads recall 
His hapless fate, and say of him: 

" The wine-cup did it all." 



THE SHORE OF MEMOKT. 

Wandering on the shore of Memory, 
Gathering up the fragments cast 

By the surging waves of feeling 
From the ocean of the past. 

Here a shell and there a pebble, 
With its edges worn away 

By the rolling of the waters — 
By the dashing of the spray. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION, 357 

Some lie smooth and many-tinted 

High upon the glistening sand, 
Others sharp and freshly scattered — 

Wound when taken in the hand. 

Here are wreaths of bygone treasures, 

Garnered in our early years — 
Garnered now in hidden caverns, 

Crusted with the salt of tears. 

Joy that vanished ere 'twas tasted 

Is but sea- weed wet with spray; 
Eagerly we seek to grasp it, 

Lo! its beauties fade away. 

Though temptations without number 
Throng and bar thy narrow way. 

There's an eye that cannot slumber, 
There's an arm shall be thy stay. 

Tlien be strong, whate'er betide thee — 

All of joy or all of bliss — 
Shall not God himself beside thee 

Soothe the storm with " Peace, be still." 



SILVER SHEAVES. 



SHEAYES. 



In the courts of the Master's Temple 

Shall listless footsteps fall, 
And banners that no breeze has touched 

Hang drooping from the wall; 
Shall we sit idly waiting 

Some summons from afar, 
While hei-e in the lanes and byways 

The ftiint and suffering are? 
From the arid hills, from the valleys, swept 

By the dark simoon of sin, 
With the Words of Love our hearts have kept 

We gather the children in — 
From the haunts where sorrow and crime have rule 

We gather them in to the Sabbath School. 

Oh! the weary, weary children, 

Who, knowing no home ties, 
Grow up in their haunts of misery, 

Cunning and sad and wise: 
Oh! the outcast, sorrowing children, 

Whom no kind hand hath led, 
Whose bleeding feet a flinty path 

Pain racked and suffering tread. 
From the drunkard's home, from the miser's grasp, 

With their pallid cheeks and thin — 
From the outlaw's lair with their stolid eyes 

We gather them fondly in, 
And patiently teach the Saviour's rule 
Of love to all in the mission school. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTION. 359 

We yield the gospel's sweet repose 

To hearts where hope is dead, 
And bid them join their song with those 

Of children gently led, 
Who know the blissful story 

How Jesus died to save, 
And the joys of saints and glory — 

The rest beyond the grave; 
From the storm and strife of a crimson stained life, 

From the dews where their feet have been, 
From the pains they bear in want's grim fare, 

We gather the children in, 
And patiently teach love's golden rule 
To rich aad poor in the Sabbath School. 

From the frivolous homes of fashion, 

From the haunts where lust of gain, 
That one absorbing passion, 

Leads fortli corruption's train; 
From envy, and hate, and malice, 

And all unkindly thought. 
We would shield the heir of the palace 

And the child of the humblest cot; 
From the I)inding ties of the worldly wise, 

Their acliiug hearts to win. 
To the home of peace where bickerings cease 

We gather them fondly in, 
And hope and love hold joyous rule, 
O'er the rich and poor in the Sabbath School. 



3(50 SILVER SHEAVES. 

Come over and help us ye who sit 

At ease by the temple's gate, 
The fields are white to the harvest yet, 

What sheaves for the sickle wait! 
The time will come when you'll look with pain 

O'er the master's fallow ground. 
And weep in vain for the wasted grain 

That should be in your garners found; 
How blest a toil from the world's turmoil, 

We gather this infant choir, 
On the heart's cold shrine with touch divine 

To kindle the sacred fire, 
And earnestly teach the Saviour's rule 
Of love to all in the Sabbath School. 



